


The Many Misadventures of the Stark Siblings

by kitkatkaylie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Modern Westeros, Multi, Oblivious Robb Stark, Protective Starks, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Robb Stark is a Gift, Sibling Bonding, except i have no knowledge of high school, more like alternate universe sixth form, or well very little hurts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 44,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: When Ned and Catelyn Stark die in a car crash they leave behind six children, the eldest two step up to care for their younger siblings with all the drama that arises from such a thing.A fluff filled fest of Stark Sibling bonding that is in no way as serious as it might sound.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Arya Stark & Bran Stark & Rickon Stark & Robb Stark & Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark, Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow
Comments: 67
Kudos: 530





	1. In which Robb is an oblivious motherhen

**Author's Note:**

> This will be utterly cracky and fluffy, with very little attention paid to logic and how this situation might occur in the real world (so please dont tell me something is unrealistic!)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Eddard and Catelyn Stark had died three days after Sevenmas, their car had slipped on a patch of ice as they made their way home along the icy lanes of the North. Their children had been told that it was quick, they would have barely even known what was happening before they died, but that was little comfort.

They had left behind the five of their own and the nephew they had adopted, the entire estate split between the six children they had raised.

They had been good parents, had taught their children well, had taught them the importance of family, of trust, and of sticking together.

They had also taught their children to be some of the most stubborn people you would ever meet.

It was to no one’s surprise therefore when the two eldest had fought for custody of their younger siblings despite only just being old enough, studying at university, and having numerous aunts and uncles that they could have relied on.

Of course their bid was made easier by the lack of mortgage and the large amount money their parents had set aside for their care. Their mother had always been an imminently practical woman and had likely guessed that if anything did happen to her and Ned then the children would not allow themselves to be split up.

It similarly helped that none of their aunts or uncles were overly prepared to take in six children and their six wolf-dogs.

And so full custody was granted to Robb and Jon of their younger siblings, and life in the Stark Household went on with even more drama than before.

* * *

“Good morning! Good morning! Its great to stay up late, good morning, good morning to you!” Robb sang as he knocked on the door of his siblings’ bedrooms, a sunny yet vindictive smile on his face.

He was the only one who was a morning person, other than Rickon, and so had assigned himself the task of getting them all up so they had time to eat breakfast and get ready for school.

If he took pleasure in the curses and groans they all let out, well, it was his job as an older brother to do so.

He had even decided to be nice that morning waking them up with his dulcet tones, often he let a soaking wet dog into each of their rooms or used the spray bottle that Sansa had for her plants to spray them with ice water.

Although he was reconsidering the last one after Sansa had deliberately put a red shirt of Rickon’s in with his white t-shirts and boxers in the wash. His clothes had been a fetching shade of pink after that, something that Theon would never let him live down.

When he was assured that they were all moving and he heard the tell-tale slam of the bathroom door and shout of annoyance from whoever didn’t make it in time, he headed downstairs to lay out breakfast for everyone.

He, Jon, and Sansa all took it in turns to prepare meals and care for the younger three, and he and Jon each took it in turns to do the school run. Sansa would be able to do it soon enough, her driving test was only a couple of weeks away and Robb would be thankful when she passed, it would definitely make life easier.

He put cereal out on the table for Arya and Bran and began to make porridge for Rickon and himself. They all tried to make sure that Rickon was eating healthily, which was difficult sometimes as their baby brother would live off of yogurt and sweets if given the opportunity. Jon and Sansa could fend for themselves, he wasn’t that nice a brother.

Bran was first into the kitchen, he didn’t have to compete for the bathroom as his bedroom was on the ground floor of the house to accommodate his wheelchair, and so he was often the first one. Robb sighed when he saw his little brother and grabbed the comb they kept in the kitchen for this exact purpose, his brother may be ten years old and fully capable of dressing himself, but he always forgot to comb his hair so it did something other than make him look electrocuted.

Bran could not be bothered to fight him off, he just submitted to having his hair combed while continuing to eat his mixing bowl of cereal. Robb felt his heart contract a little at the memory of when his mum would do the same for him.

Sansa was next in, perfectly coiffed and ready for the day, she must have been the victor of the bathroom dash and she wasn’t on Rickon duty that morning so she could afford to spend time on her appearance. In fact, she’d been spending more time on it lately, had started wearing more florals as well, and Robb had the sneaking suspicion that his little sister might have a crush.

He wouldn’t bring it up though, not when she was just starting to relax into her social life again after the accident. Not unless she started looking like she had when that prick Joffrey had been around.

If that happened then Robb could not be held accountable for his actions.

“Morning Sansa!” Bran chirped, and Sansa’s perfect faced fell as she grunted at him in response. A morning person their sister was not.

He watched her stalk over to the kettle and begin to prepare a cup of coffee that was both horrifying and impressive in its strength and sugar content. It was a fact known by all in the Stark household that Sansa was useless without three cups of coffee but for efficiencies sake she often condensed them into one mug.

It was a habit that Arya already eyed with interest and Robb and Jon had decided they were going to do all they could to prevent her from falling into the same pit as Sansa. With bribery if necessary.

And speaking of the devil, she stomped in with her wet hair plastered to her forehead and ate her cereal with a viciousness that you would not think could be achieved with cereal. And yet somehow, Arya managed it.

She managed it while staring covetously at Sansa’s coffee and Robb felt he had to intervene. No matter what Arya might say, thirteen was far too young to drink coffee that strong.

He poured her a glass of juice and set it in front of her with a stern glare that he hoped channelled their mother. There was no point in channelling their father, Ned Stark had never been the authoritarian in their home.

“Thanks Robb.” Arya grumbled, but she drank the juice and stopped looking at Sansa’s coffee so Robb counted it as a win.

Theon liked to mock him and tell him he was a mother hen, but Robb had never caught him complaining when he prevented Theon from choking on his vomit after drinking too much and eft him water and painkillers for his hangover, or when he made sure to carry an extra pair of gloves because Theon always forgot his own. So he took Theon’s teasing with a pinch of salt.

He waited until Jon carried Rickon into the kitchen before starting any attempt at discussing the plan for the day, otherwise he would have to explain it all over again.

Jon placed Rickon in the wolf hoodie he rarely took off in his high chair and went to grab a coffee of his own, one so milky that Robb had wondered on more than one occasion why Jon bothered adding the coffee at all. He himself carried the made porridge over to Rickon and began to try to feed the baby of the family, uncaring of the laughter from his siblings at his aeroplane and train noises.

“Right,” He said, aiming the spoon at Rickon’s mouth once again, “I’m doing the school run this morning, Jon is picking everyone up. If you have any complaints about that then I don’t care. I have lectures all day so if there is any trouble you can call, but I would prefer if you tried Jon first as he only has a tutorial this morning. Arya, you have archery club after school, Theon has volunteered to take you as he’s going to the range anyway. Have I missed anything?”

Robb looked up to see his siblings shaking their heads, good. His appreciation for his parents’ abilities to seamlessly juggle their myriad of obligations was something he had never really had before the Crash, but it was an ability he was now in awe of.

“Oh, wait,” Sansa raised her head from her coffee long enough to speak, “Margaery is coming round later, we were going to brainstorm ideas for our politics essay. She said she’d drive us so no need to worry about picking me and Arya up.”

Robb highly doubted that Sansa and Margaery were just going to work on their essay, likely they would spend half the time giggling over their latest crush. But it had been a while since Sansa had had a friend round so he wasn’t going to say anything.

“Yeah, sure, just remember its your turn to cook tonight.”

Robb glanced up at the clock and had to stop himself from cursing, they always ended up running late and he really couldn’t do anything that might cast a doubt on his and Jon’s parenting abilities – like dropping them off to school late.

“Alright spogs, in the car. We don’t want any of you to be late for school. Arya, if you could grab the lunches from the fridge please?”

He checked his baby sister had done as he asked and nodded his head.

He could do this.

* * *

He could not, in fact, do this.

Robb had been so focused on making sure that his siblings hadn’t forgotten anything that he had left his bag by the front door. His bag that contained everything he would need for his day of lectures.

He could only be thankful he had no coursework due in that day.

Theon had laughed at him for nearly ten minutes straight when he met him at their usual meeting point, they may not have been on the same course but they did seem to be in at the same time rather a lot. He had eventually offered Robb a chewed pencil from the bottom of his bag and a notebook Robb knew was only used for doodles.

He took them both though, even Theon’s book of strange doodles was preferable to being unable to make any notes at all. And Theon’s doodles were _strange_.

His favourite had to be the one of the squid fighting a lion, it was a ridiculously detailed squid, one that could almost be used as a drawing in a scientific article, and yet the lion looked like it had come from a drawing on a nursery wall.

But that was Theon. He had always been interested in marine biology and disinterested in nearly everything else.

“Hey, earth to Robb!” Theon waved a hand in front of his face, “You’re really out of it today huh? What’s up?”

Robb shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. Just, does Sansa have a crush on someone? It looked like she spent a long time on her hair and make up this morning.”

It annoyed him sometimes that his little sister was more likely to tell his best friend things like that, but apparently they had bonded over despair at his wardrobe and a love of fashion. He didn’t question it after the shopping trip they dragged him on.

“Robb. Robb. Robb.” Theon shook his head with a wide grin on his face, “Sansa has had the same crush for nearly two years now. How have you only just noticed it?”

Well that was rude.

“I have been a little busy.” He tried to defend, but Theon just laughed him off.

“Even Jon noticed that Sansa likes someone. _Jon_. The person who was voted most likely to not know something. Actually, speaking of that, Jon owes me money. We had a bet on when you would cotton on.”

Rob should have been offended by his brother and best friend betting on him, but he was far too used to it. The only time the pair of them got on was when they were either mocking him or defending someone.

“Fucks sake,” He groaned, “You’re buying me a drink with that money Greyjoy. And I know you won’t tell me who Sansa likes, but are they at least better than that prick Joffrey?”

Theon’s face turned unusually serious and he placed a warm hand on Robb’s arm, “Miles better.”

Well at least there was that.


	2. In which Sansa is devious

“Wolf hood! Wolf hood! Wolf hood!” Rickon chanted as Sansa moved around trying to lay out Rickon’s clothes for the day.

“Rickon, your wolf hoodie is in the wash remember? You split pasta sauce all down it yesterday.” Sansa tried to placate her brother, “Why don’t you wear your digger one instead?”

Her suggestion was met with a whine, “But Lyanna’s wearing her bear one and we were gonna chase all the other kids and be scary together.”

Sansa really should have known it would be about Lyanna, all Rickon talked about at the moment, other than wolves and robot zombie wolves, was Lyanna Mormont. The pair had been described by their playgroup leader as inseparable and they really were.

“Tell you what, I’ll rinse it off really quickly so you can wear it today, if you eat all of your breakfast without throwing it at anyone or dropping some to Shaggy. Deal?”

Rickon looked at her with big eyes that mirrored her own, he seemed to think about it for a good long moment before putting his hand out. “Deal.”

Sansa shook his perpetually slightly sticky hand and quickly helped him to dress. Robb was on breakfast duty that morning (honestly he was on breakfast duty most mornings as he was actually awake) so she passed the toddler over to him to be fed, reminded Rickon of their deal and hurried to grab the jumper from the laundry basket.

The stain on it was not as bad as it could have been and most of it came out when scrubbed with soap and water. Their mum probably would have been horrified by the thought of Rickon going outside in it, but Sansa did not want to deal with another tantrum.

Not after his last one had them cleaning pasta sauce off the ceiling for a week.

She stuck the hoodie in the tumble dryer, they tried not to use it too much as it made the dogs wince, but she could hardly send her baby brother to playgroup with a wet jumper on. That would just be stupid.

When it was dry and snuggly warm she carried it through to the kitchen to a sight that nearly had her on the floor with laughter.

All of the dogs were sat around Rickon’s high chair, looking up at him with big eyes, but for once they were not being fed much to the confusion of the dogs and the other Stark siblings.

It seemed Rickon really was determined to wear his wolf hoodie that day then if he had managed to resist Shaggy’s sad eyes.

“Who is the best big sister ever!” She asked with a wide grin as she held up the hoodie.

Rickon’s eyes widened and he reached out to try and take it from her. “You! You!”

“Am I the best big sister or the best big sibling?” She asked, shooting a sly look at Jon and Robb.

This made Rickon look conflicted, he did not like to choose between his siblings, a fact which made all of them compete for the title of ‘best’.

“You’re the Best Sansa.” He finally said, sticking out his lower lip in a pout. “And Robb is the Best Robb, and Jon is the Best Jon, and Arya is the Best Arya, and Bran is the Best Bran. But Shaggy is the Best Dog.”

Sansa supposed she could not fault her baby brother for that decision. She remembered making a similar one once when she was about three and her parents had asked her which one of them was her favourite.

They had brought it up for years after at family gatherings after a few drinks.

“That jumper is going in the wash tonight.” She warned, pulling the hoodie over his head, “So you won’t be able to wear it tomorrow.”

Rickon did not seem to be listening to her however as he wriggled happily and pulled the hood up so it covered his curls.

“Rawr!” He growled, curling his hands into claws.

Robb jumped back and placed his hand over his heart, “Oh my! What a scary wolf! Except he isn’t very big, maybe he just needs to finish his breakfast to become a big bad wolf?”

“Does that make Robb Grandma or Red Riding Hood?” Arya muttered to Jon and Sansa had to hide her smirk at those words.

It would have been unfair to laugh at Robb and he was trying, he was really trying to look after them all. Sansa knew how much he and Jon were trying to keep everything normal, she helped out where she could but there were some things she couldn’t do.

She left them to it and went to make herself a coffee using the largest mug they had, she had history first lesson and she would need the caffeine to keep everything straight, especially as they were looking at the crossover effects of geography on the War of the Five Kings.

She hated geography.

* * *

“You know Sansa, I cannot tell which of your brothers Theon has a crush on.”

Those were not words Sansa had expected to hear come out of Loras’ mouth when she was trying to concentrate on her coursework.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“You know he and Robb have that whole epic bromance without the b thing,” Loras smirked, “But the way he acts around Jon reminds me of a little kid pulling their crush’s pigtails.”

Margaery plopped down next to them and leaned over to steal some of Loras’ coffee, “Are we talking about the massive crush Theon has on Robb? Or the bet we have for when Robb will finally realise?”

Sansa hit her head against the table, evidently she would not be allowed to do her work.

“Why are the pair of you so obsessed with my brother’s love life?”

“The real question, sweet Sansa, is why are you not? Isn’t it the duty of younger siblings to annoy their elders?” Renly asked, he had been silent up until that point content to let his boyfriend and boyfriend’s twin control the conversation.

“Is that why you’ve started offering to pick Bran up from school?” Sansa asked dryly, “So you can see the constipated look on Stannis’ face when you greet him loudly and obnoxiously.”

Renly grinned, “Exactly. Its not my fault if Stanny boy is so upset by my glorious presence.”

Sansa shook her head and stole Loras’ coffee from Margaery.

“One day your brother is going to finally snap and kill you Renly. And leave poor Loras without anyone to cuddle.”

Margaery laughed, “As true as that is, although my money is on your sister in law snapping and killing you Renly, we are getting off topic. Which one of Sansa’s brothers do you think Greyjoy has a crush on Renly?”

If Sansa didn’t love her friends so much she would quite happily kill them. She did not want to think of her older brothers and Theon and any romantic feelings they might have.

“Jon, definitely, the teasing is just a cover for his true feelings.” Renly said, “Although I do think there is potential for Throbb to happen.”

Sansa could taste the betrayal in the air, all of her friends were traitors. They were horrible, horrible people, and she was going to demand retribution.

“Did you seriously ship name my brother?” Sansa asked calmly and politely.

Or maybe not if the chairs scooting away from her was any indication. Maybe she had let too much murder into her voice or eyebrow raise.

Loras looked at his bare wrist, “Ooh is that the time? Come along Renly, we have things to see and people to do.”

He dragged his boyfriend out of the room, undoubtedly to go snog behind the bike sheds or in front of the headteacher’s office in the hopes of annoying Stannis again.

“You can run but you can’t hide Tyrell! I know where you live!” Sansa called after them, taking a little enjoyment in the confused faces of those in the corridor.

Margaery looked about two seconds from laughing and moved so she was leaning over Sansa, “How long is it before your brothers realise we’re together?” She breathed,

Sansa smiled and moved her hands to Margaery’s waist, “About as long as yours.”

They grinned at each other, laughing at the obliviousness of their siblings. Sansa could understand her brothers not picking up on it, it was rare they saw the two of them together, but it was pitiful that Loras had not yet picked up on it.

They had just leaned in to exchange a soft kiss when a yelp dragged their attention to the doorway.

“If you two want to see how long it might take for your brothers to catch on you might not want to keep kissing in public.” Brienne said, in a longsuffering voice.

Sansa felt a burst of guilt, Brienne had the most unfortunate luck of managing to consistently walk in on couples.

“Sorry Brienne,” She said, “But look on the bright side, the less subtle we are, the more likely you are to win the bet!”

Margaery giggled, “I’m sure Brienne made such an early bet because we are unsubtle, petal.”

Sansa batted at her as Brienne scrubbed a hand over her face in exasperation.

“You two are awful.” Brienne said, “Just awful. Also why are Renly and Loras arguing about your brothers and their friend?”

“Theon is Robb’s friend, not Jon’s” Sansa corrected absently, “He and Jon have disliked each other ever since they realised they would have to share Robb when they were three. And they’re arguing over who Theon has a crush on.”

Brienne looked very confused, “But Theon told you he liked Robb. Why would you not solve this argument now?”

Sansa smiled a smile that would look more at home on Arya’s face than her own. “Because the pair of them deserve to suffer for introducing Bran to the concept of slime.”

There was a moment of silence and then Margaery let out a snort of laughter.

“You are delightfully evil darling.” She said, pressing a kiss to Sansa’s cheek, “Its one of your more endearing qualities.”

Brienne gaped at her and shook her head, “When you inevitably go full super-villain, just remember that I have always supported you.”

Sansa just laughed.

* * *

“We need to have a family meeting,” Robb said, sounding unusually grave.

He looked a little upset that none of his siblings bothered to look up at his words, but really, Sansa thought, he should have been used to that by now. He had had seventeen years to get used to that.

Sansa glanced up from her phone at him, he looked more serious than usual – maybe they should actually listen to him. She kicked at Jon to make him look up as well, and he hid his phone screen with a suspicious speed that made Sansa want to know more.

“What?” He sounded annoyed with her.

“Robb wants to have a ‘family meeting’ and looks like he’s about to cry.” Sansa kicked him again.

Jon sighed, put his phone away, and nudged at Arya who hissed at him like a cat.

Robb looked absurdly grateful, “Thank you Sansa, Jon. I just need ten minutes of everyone’s attention and then we can order a pizza.”

Jon and Arya perked up at that, and Sansa was unashamed to say that she did as well.

“Go on then Robb,” Arya said magnanimously, “What is it you wanted to speak with us about?”

Robb sank into the sofa and looked at each of them tiredly.

“Rickon’s playgroup leader pulled me aside today, apparently he felt it was appropriate to call a child who took the orange crayon he wanted a ‘piece of shit who no one would ever fucking love’.”

There was a brief moment of silence until they all cracked up with laughter.

“Rickon said that.” Jon sounded completely disbelieving, “Rickon?”

“Yes.” Robb put his head in his hands, “Rickon said that. His teacher expressed concern over his home life for knowing what those words meant.”

That was not good and sobered Sansa and Jon almost instantly, they couldn’t have any doubt cast upon their ability to care for Rickon, Bran or Arya, not if they wanted to stay together.

“What did you say to them?” Sansa asked.

“I blamed Theon. I said he must have heard that from a friend of the family. I promised I would speak to everyone about regulating their language around him.” Robb admitted.

Sansa tried to think back to where Rickon could have heard that specific insult, “Wait, wasn’t that what Jon said to Theon the other day? When he took the last piece of popcorn while we were watching Brave.”

They all turned to look at Jon who looked like he was trying to sink into the sofa cushions and had a red flush on his face.

“Jon, I am disappointed in you.” Arya said, shaking her head in mock exasperation.

Jon threw a cushion at her, “You called the fridge a ‘piece of shit’ the other day when it didn’t have any apple juice in it, you don’t have a leg to stand on.”

Arya grabbed a cushion to throw it back but was stopped by another hitting her in the face at the same time as Jon was hit.

“Stop it both of you.” Robb said, “It doesn’t matter who Rickon learnt it from, just that he doesn’t learn any more swears for a few more years. If you are going to swear just don’t do it around him ok?”

It wasn’t a lot to ask, but even that might be too much. Arya did love to swear, especially now that mum wasn’t around to glare at her every time she caught her, and Jon and Theon seemed to be in competition to insult each other.

Admittedly Sansa was no better, she regularly hurled abuse at her sewing machine, especially when the needle broke for the fifth time in an hour.

“We’ll try?” Sansa offered, a sentiment that was reflected by the others.

Robb looked very relieved, “That’s all I’m asking for. Now, shall we call Bran and Rickon down and order that pizza?”


	3. In which Jon wants new friends

“So in other news I’m gay as fuck.” Jon said as he entered the kitchen.

“Fuck!” Rickon gleefully repeated, swiftly followed by Bran and Arya too.

“Jon, we have just had this discussion. Please try to censor yourself a little more around Rickon, we really don’t want his teacher complaining again.” Robb groaned.

“Yeah Jon, Gods it’s not like you’re telling us any new information here.” Sansa said as she tried to spoon the last bit of porridge into Rickon’s mouth.

Jon gaped at them, “What? You all-“

“Knew you were gay? Jon you aren’t the most subtle of people. Ygritte has been changing in front of you for years and never once have you batted an eyelid, but when it comes to getting changed for PE you still blush like a thirteen year old.” Robb said in a long suffering tone.

Jon had no answer to that. He decided to continue on with what he wanted to say anyway, “Yeah but Robb those were boys, this guy, this is a man.”

Arya snorted at him and the wistful tint to his voice.

“That’s nice Jon,” Sansa said, obviously trying to hide a laugh, “But it’s your turn to do the school run this morning so maybe you’d better get moving.”

Jon looked at the clock and cursed (once again ignoring Robb’s glare for his language), Sansa was right, he did need to make a move if he wanted to drop the two youngest off at school and playgroup on time.

He grabbed his bag as well as Bran and Rickon and shepherded them out to the car containing Rickon’s seat.

Somehow he managed to wrestle Rickon correctly into his seat, trusting that Bran would be able to plug himself in after being lifted into his seat by Robb.

Sansa rushed out after them, two lunchboxes in her grip.

“Try to remember to give them the right lunch this time Jon,” she said, handing the boxes to him. “Rickon has the wolf box with the chicken sandwich and Bran has the raven box with the ham sandwich because he’s still refusing to eat poultry.”

Ahh yes, Bran’s little protest against eating birds. He claimed it was cannibalism since he talked to them on a regular basis, his siblings didn’t care enough to argue with him about it. The last time Jon had had the school run he had given them the wrong lunch by accident and Brans teacher had called them, telling them Bran was refusing to eat.

Bran was the first to be dropped off, his teacher Mr Rivers was quite happy to have Bran sit in his classroom with a book before the day started properly, pleased he could offer some help to the grieving family.

It was Rickon that Jon was looking forward to dropping off, it wasn’t because Rickon was particularly easy to care for, or that Jon was overly fond of the teacher - although Osha was a miracle worker with Rickon some days. No, Jon was desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the other parents, the man who had him reaffirming that yes he was really fucking gay.

Sure enough, the man was there, it was difficult to miss him with his shock of ginger hair and beard, let alone the fact that he stood head and shoulders above the other parents. Jon hadn’t yet managed to build the courage to speak to the man, sure that if he did he would be instantly tongue tied and make a fool of himself.

He was pulled from his daydreams by an insistent tug on his hand from a very impatient Rickon.

“Joooon, come on!” Rickon whined, “You need to sign me in so I can claim the castle before Munda does!”

Jon looked down at his brother with a fond smile, “Why don’t you just share the castle?”

Rickon glared at him, with an expression asking him if he was stupid, “Because Munda is my nemesis! You don’t share things with your nemesis!”

“Why not? Theon and I share Robb.”

His little brother, his sweet baby brother, actually rolled his eyes at him.

“Theon isn’t your nemesis, he’s just an idiot. Munda is my nemesis because she’s smart and keeps trying to steal Lyanna. Also she thinks wolves are stupid.”

Jon had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, “Wait, is Munda the girl you swore at the other day?”

Rickon rolled his eyes again, “No. That was Olyvar Frey, and I stand by what I said to him. I wouldn’t swear at Munda, you don’t swear at girls, Margaery taught me that.”

Jon wanted to know what else Margaery had taught his little brother but this wasn’t the time to find out.

“Well don’t swear at anyone, ok? You manage to do that for a month and I’ll take you and Lyanna out for ice cream.”

He thought he might have heard muffled laughter from behind him, but he had just reached the desk to sign Rickon into playgroup so did not look around to find the source.

“Right,” He said, tugging Rickon’s jumper straight, “You behave today, and its Sansa and Margaery picking you up later because both Robb and I have a late class.”

Rickon squirmed and rolled his eyes once more when Jon pressed a kiss to his curls and then ran off like a shot as soon as he was released.

Jon shook his head fondly and headed back to the car, he didn’t have Arya and Sansa to drop off this time as Robb had a meeting with the headteacher at their school to do with Arya ‘accidentally’ hitting one of the girls in her class in the face with a hockey stick hard enough she gave them a black eye.

They had decided between them that Robb was best to handle that meeting as he was less likely to start laughing in Mr Seaworth’s face about the incident.

He smiled to himself, as he pulled out of the car park, absently noting the red haired man watching him leave.

* * *

“Ugh” Ygritte groaned, leaning against Jon and putting all her weight on him until he staggered. “My fucking uncle has come to live down here.”

“Oh?” Jon took another sip of his tea, he knew Ygritte did not want him to answer her, merely to make noises at the appropriate places in her rant.

“Yeah, he got a job with your da’s company. Or well, your company now.” She said, “He’s brought his sprogs with him. But it means da and ma want to do ‘family bonding’ shite with them.”

Jon snorted, Ygritte’s family did not do normal family activities, they were more likely to do extreme sports than anything else.

She hit him in punishment for his snort, “Shut up you, this is serious. If they want to do ‘family bonding’ then I’m going to have to deal with the bloody Thenns.”

He could see why Ygritte was so upset, she hated her cousins with a passion similar to Jon’s hatred of his biological father’s family.

“On the bright side, if you go paintballing you might have the chance to shoot Sigorn in the crotch again?” He offered.

Ygritte slowly raised her head with an unholy grin on her face, “I like the way you think. I might just suggest that. Now tell me why you came in today smiling, I want to hear the gossip.”

“Well Rickon now has a nemesis other than bath time, one of the little girls at his playgroup. And uhh, a rather impressive looking man has started taking his children there as well. He’s a very pleasant sight in the mornings.” Jon said, lolling his head against her shoulder.

He did not have to see her face to know that she had a wicked grin on her features.

“Aww does little Jonny have a crush?” Her voice was sickly sweet, “Was he big and strong and could probably pick you up with one hand?”

Jon hid his flaming face in her neck as he nodded. Sometimes he hated the fact that she’d been his friend for so long and had seen him through all of his various crushes and crises.

“What’s Jon blushing over this time?” Salvation thy name is Sam.

“He’s got a crush on a bear from his brother’s playgroup.” Ygritte was fucking merciless with her matter of fact tone.

“A teddy bear? Or-” Sam sounded so confused, and his question made Ygritte literally shake with laughter.

Jon took pity on him, “She means a buff man, Sam. Well the word has further connotations than that, but that’s the spirit she means it in.”

He lifted his head and smiled at Sam, who smiled back weakly.

“So Jon likes someone? Has he moved on from Satin then?”

Screw that, Sam was not his salvation, Sam was a dirty rotten traitor.

“It doesn’t seem to be drunken love like that thing with Satin was,” Ygritte answered, ruffling a hand through his hair, “Seeing as he’s sober this time.”

Jon needed to get some new friends. His were all absolute jerks.

* * *

Jon tried not to be too loud when he entered the house, it was only eight pm, but that was past Rickon’s bedtime and he was a nightmare if he was woken up.

His lecture had finished late, and then his friends had convinced him to go out with them for a drink. It wasn’t something he did often, but he knew Sansa wasn’t alone with the others, Arya was staying at a friend’s and Sansa had Margaery staying over. Margaery who liked to teach Rickon, Bran and Arya life lessons of dubious morality.

There was a light on in the living room, flickering from the tv, and so that was where he headed. If he was lucky they would have kept him a serving of dinner, if he was unlucky he would have to hunt through the freezer for one of the meals they kept in there to save Arya from attempting to cook.

He poked his head around the door and froze, unwilling o go any further in and disturb the scene before him. Sansa was asleep, curled up with her head on Margaery’s lap, while her friends ran her hand through Sansa’s hair in a gentle, repetitive motion.

It was such a soft scene that Jon was loathe to break it, there was such compassion on Margaery’s face that Jon felt jealous of their friendship for the briefest of moments.

He backed away, content to let them be, and redirected himself to the kitchen where he sent thanks to the powers that be when he saw a plate with his name on it one the counter.

And then he lifted the lid and saw only a picture of a grinning Bran holding his thumbs up.

His brother was a little shit and Jon was going to make him pay.


	4. In which Bran's birds make some predictions

“Theon, I need you to answer me honestly, I promise I won’t get mad but-” Robb took a deep breath and noted the way Theon had paled, “Do you have feelings for Sansa?”

His friend, his traitor of a friend started to laugh at him.

“You- you- you think I like Sansa?” Theon wheezed.

Robb glared at him, “Well lets review the evidence, shall we? You made a thing about liking red hair the other day, you refused the number of that cute girl at the bar last week, and to top it off I heard you moaning to Asha about ‘stupid blue eyes’. Thus I have deducted you have a crush on my little sister.”

Robb was quite proud of his detective work, it had not been easy putting together all the hints that Theon had left, but they could only point to one person. The only person Robb knew who had red hair and blue eyes: his little sister.

His technically legal but still two years younger than them little sister.

“How is it possible that you can be so smart but so stupid?” Theon asked, an incredulous look on his face.

“Hey!”

“I’m serious Robb, sometimes you can be a right idiot.” Theon shook his head, “I don’t like Sansa, well I mean, we’re friends, but I don’t want to date her. No, I have feelings for someone else you nitwit.”

Robb’s weird emotional combination of pride at his detective prowess and protectiveness of his little sister soured at Theon’s words. Who did Theon like then, if it was not Sansa?

“You know what Robb, I am not dealing with this today.” Theon stood up from the table and pushed his chair in with a loud scrape, “I have an essay due tomorrow that I have barely started so I cannot deal with your obliviousness today.”

Robb was confused by his friend’s words, but accepting of Theon’s excuse nonetheless, they had all done a last minute essay dash.

“You still on for watching Arya’s hockey game on Saturday?” Robb merely said.

Theon’s shoulders hunched and then forcibly relaxed, “Sure, don’t want to miss out on my winnings when she knocks out another tooth now, do I?”

“I stand by the conversation we had, she knows that her hockey stick should be no where near the oppositions’ mouths. But, anyway, good luck with your essay.”

Theon held up a hand in acknowledgment as he left and Robb watched him go, something strange bubbling in his chest.

Two girls he recognised as being friends with Jon scoffed as they walked passed, and he could not help but overhear them converse.

“Do you think it’s a trait shared by all the Starks, to be so obtuse about their feelings?”

Their words only confused him further as he pretended not to hear them. What exactly was he being so obtuse about?

* * *

Robb tried not to wince as Rickon tugged on his hair. Putting his brother on his shoulders was one of the easiest ways to ensure his brother did not run off, especially as Rickon now insisted he was too big for his pushchair.

He had considered toddler reins, but the thought of holding onto the dogs’ leashes and his little brother at the same time was nightmare inducing. He could almost guarantee that Rickon would somehow manage to get them all tangled up before they even got five minutes into their walk.

He and Jon had dragged everyone out of the house for a walk with the dogs, the evenings were finally getting light and they had lured them all with promises of hot chocolate from the café they all liked that was run by Arya’s friend’s family.

He did not comment on the way that Arya seemed to keep ‘accidently’ steering Bran into the people who shot them strange or unpleasant looks, nor on the way that Sansa managed to ‘accidently’ trip someone who commented on Bran’s wheelchair with Lady’s lead. He knew that was one but of misbehaviour his parents most certainly would not have punished, and maybe even rewarded.

They had taught them to stick together and stick up for each other after all.

The park was quiet when they arrived, a fresh snowfall on the ground, and as Jon and Sansa released the dogs to run around so he released Rickon. Hopefully they would manage to wear themselves out well enough to sleep deeply that night.

He wandered over to where Bran had parked himself beneath some trees and where he claimed to be talking to some birds. As there were no birds on the ground, nor visible in the trees, Robb highly doubted that that was what his brother was actually doing.

“The pigeons say that Jon is going to be stabbed by people he thought were friends, and that Robb is going to die at a wedding.” Bran said with a completely straight face.

“Oh? Do the birds have any other predictions?” Robb asked lightly, trying to contain his laughter.

Bran nodded solemnly, “They said that it’ll take you to the end of the month to cotton on to who Theon actually likes.”

Sansa started to laugh at that, “Your birds have a high opinion of our dear, dense brother of they think it will only take him to the end of the month.”

Robb felt he should be insulted by her words, but he could not bring himself to feign insult, not if he could maybe convince her to explain it to him.

“The tits say that it’ll take him as long to realise as it does for Jon to speak to the person he’s mooning over.” Bran continued, and Robb knew he had chosen that bird if only to say ‘tit’ without being told off by his sisters.

“I do not moon!” Jon said, his name being mentioned obviously forcing him to pay attention.

“You’re worse than Rickon at bath time.” Sansa again.

His sister had obviously been spending far too much time with Margaery is she was being this savage, sometimes Robb longed for the days before she met her best friend when his little sister was still sweet and innocent.

Or slightly more sweet and innocent, if he was being honest with himself, she had always had a savage side to her.

“Can you believe the disrespect we’re being offered Jon? By our own flesh and blood no less!” Robb exclaimed, making his gestures as over dramatic as he could.

“I know, it seems like everyone is angling for no dessert and earlier bedtimes.” Jon replied, a smirk making its way onto his face.

Their siblings started to protest loudly and viciously, and Robb could not help the laugh that escaped him at how offended they all were by Jon’s words. They all knew that he ad Jon were far too much of a pushover to hold true to such a threat, and that the only time they should fear it was if it came from Sansa, yet they protested all the same.

He exchanged a smile with Jon, and then looked behind himself curiously when his brother reddened.

Behind them was a large red-haired man with two small children, all of them bundled up in layers against the snow that still covered the ground.

“Rickon!” One of the little girls scampered over and wrapped Rickon up in a hug.

Rickon did not look very impressed at all by the display of affection.

“Munda.” He said stiffly, sounding very much like their father when he had needed to interact with Roose Bolton, “Its good to see you.”

Robb did not coo over his baby brother’s display of manners, but it was a close thing. And then the name registered.

“Is that the girl Rickon has declared is his nemesis?” He whispered to Sansa.

She nodded, “It doesn’t look like she quite got the memo though, does it? And I’m guessing that her father is the man Jon’s been crushing on, judging by the colour of his cheeks.”

Jon’s cheeks were such a bright red that they probably could have melted the snow. And Robb did have to admit that from what he could see of the man, he was very much his brother’s type.

“Munda! How many times do I have to tell you not to run off!” The man approached them, more exasperation than anger in his voice.

“Sorry da.” Munda said with a thick Free Folk accent, “But its Rickon from playgroup!”

“I can see that. Sweet one, maybe you should let him go? I’m sure he doesn’t usually look like he’s being crushed.”

Munda let go of Rickon and the look of relief on his face was precious.

“Sorry Rickon. Are these your dogs?” She asked.

Rickon nodded, “Mine’s Shaggy. He’s the best.”

“Can I meet him?”

Rickon regarded her with suspicion but nodded. He led her over to where the dogs were playing and introduced her to them all. It was a sweet scene.

“Sorry about that.” The man said, holding his hand out for Robb to shake, “She can be a right scamp sometimes. I’m Tormund, by the way.”

Robb shook his hand, “Robb Stark, I’m Rickon’s brother. And its no problem, its good for Rickon to be challenged sometimes.”

The man, Tormund, let out a booming laugh, “My Munda will do that alright.”

Robb glanced at Jon and saw an opportunity that his brother would wither thank him for or curse him for later. Or maybe both.

“I must have missed seeing you when I’ve dropped Rickon off at playgroup,” He said conversationally, “But you might have seen my brother Jon?”

He pulled Jon forwards so he was beside him, ignoring the way the flush had deepened on Jon’s cheeks.

“Hi.”

Tormund not particularly subtly looked Jon over and beamed at him, “Hi yourself. You’re good with your brother you know. All of you, Munda says he sings all of your praises all day at playgroup. I don’t know if anyone has told you, but you’re doing good.”

Those words were comforting, and Robb knew that his siblings thought so as well. He worried sometimes, whether it would have been better to allow them to be split up, to allow Bran and Arya and Rickon to have been sent to live with their aunt or uncle. And to be told that they were doing a good job soothed those fears.

“Thanks.” Jon said, his flush still very much present as he pretended not to ogle Tormund, “We do try to do what we can for him.”

Tormund’s eyes were soft as he looked at Jon, an expression on his face that made Robb feel like he was almost intruding.

“Well that’s all you can do. Tell you what though, I’ll give you my number, then if you have any problems you can always phone me and ask for help.” He typed his number into Jon’s phone with a wink, “Of course you can also phone me if you just want to talk, I’m always happy to chat with pretty people.”

The flush on Jon’s face was now as red as Robb’s hair, but he was saved from answering by Rickon running back and complaining of his tiredness.

“It was great to meet you Tormund,” Robb said, Pulling Rickon back onto his shoulders, “But we should probably get this one back home, lest he becomes a nightmare from being overtired.”

Tormund laughed once more and bid them farewell and they left the park, to head for the promised hot chocolate.

“So Jon, are you going to call Tormund then?” Sansa asked with a wicked grin, opening up the floodgates for the rest of their siblings to tease him.

Robb grinned at the promise of vengeance Jon threw his way, one day Jon would thank him for that.

* * *

“Are you going to help me fold the washing?” Robb yelled through the house, honestly expecting to hear the chirp of crickets in response. It was only Arya in, and she normally had a headset on as she yelled at people while playing her very violent video games.

He was not expecting his baby sister to appear from the top of the stairs and join him in sorting out the mountain of clothes they went through in a week. None of them were particularly good at it, he often managed to give Sansa clothes that belonged to Arya, or Arya clothes that belonged to Bran, and it was a regular occurrence that he would be given Jon’s clothes.

“Arya, is this dress yours or Sansa’s?” He held up a black dress that could either be indecently short on Sansa or knee length on Arya and that he did not recognise at all.

“Its black, that means it goes in the ‘Jon’ pile.” Arya said matter-of-factly.

“But it’s a dress.”

“If its black it goes in the Jon pile.” Arya repeated, making Robb remember why he did not usually ask her for help.

“You are a little shit, you know that right?” He asked his baby sister, and she grinned at him in that smug way only a thirteen-year-old really can.

“I do try my hardest.”

Robb put the dress in the pile of black clothes. He was sure Jon had done something to deserve it, or that he would do something soon.

If there was also the chance that Jon would put the dress on when he was half asleep, giving Robb the opportunity for blackmail, well, that was just a bonus.

He needed something to act as insurance against the pictures Jon had of him in the feathered cape Sansa had made for her Textiles coursework, he had been unable to say no to her asking for him to model it so that she could ensure it draped properly.

“I think its just you and me this afternoon,” He said, as he folded the last piece of clothing, “Do you want to see if that horror movie you wanted to see is showing this afternoon? I’m pretty sure we can convince whoever is selling the tickets you’re fifteen.”

His little sister’s grin was bright enough to light up the room, “Could we?”

Robb nodded, he might not actually enjoy horror movies but he would sit through one for her sake.

“Wicked.” Arya breathed.

She darted in and gave him a quick hug before rushing up the stairs to find some shoes. Robb grinned after her, her enthusiasm and joy as worth the nightmares he would inevitably be dealing with that night.


	5. In which Jon has to attend a parent's evening

Jon cursed the fact that for some reason both Bran’s primary school and Arya’s secondary school had their parents evening on the same day. He was pretty sure it was an abuse of power by the headteachers, that they coordinated it for the day their daughter was with her mother.

Not that he would ever voice such a suspicion, even nearly a decade on Dr Baratheon still instilled fear into him. Why that man decided his life’s dream was to teach small children Jon would never know.

He and Robb had done rock paper scissors to see who was dealing with the complaints of Arya’s teacher, and who was dealing with the strange omniscience of Bran’s. Jon had lost the game and ended up with Arya’s teacher, the only saving grace was that Sansa was coming along too. Arya’s current tutor had been Sansa’s, and Sansa had always been Mrs Mordane’s favourite student.

The only problem was, they needed someone to watch Rickon. None of the were stupid enough to take him along with them to an event where he would need to sit still, and their usual babysitter in the form of Margaery was participating in a display at the parent’s evening (one that Sansa was technically part of as well).

And the Mormonts were away visiting their grandfather who lived even further North and no way in hell were they going to ask Theon to look after Rickon. That would only end in disaster. Coming back to a house in flames disaster.

There really was no one they could ask to look after Rickon, either their friends had plans or were people they did not trust with a toddler. The Seven only knew what sort of destruction they would come back to if Ygritte was left in charge of Rickon, the only thing was certain was that it would be worse then the Theon-induced destruction.

He scrolled through his phone contacts, hoping a name would catch his eye, maybe there would be a friend he could ask he hadn’t yet contacted. He had no such luck unless…

He pressed call before he could overthink it.

“Hello?”

He took a deep breath and made sure his voice was light, “Hi Tormund, this is Jon, Rickon’s brother?”

A laugh, “Hello Jon, I was wondering when you were going to call. Was there something you needed?”

Jon scrubbed a hand through his hair and nodded, despite knowing Tormund could not see him.

“I was hoping to ask you a favour actually, Robb and I have managed to double book ourselves and our usual babysitters aren’t available for various reasons, would you be able to watch Rickon for us tonight? I know its short notice but we’ll happily pay you whatever you want.”

There was a pause and Jon felt panic start to tinge the edge of his senses.

“Of course I’ll watch the little scamp for you, Munda will be pleased to have the chance to show off her new bear. And don’t worry about paying me, we’ve all needed an emergency babysitter at some point.” Tormund said fondly, and Jon could hear the smile in his voice.

It was a kind offer but it felt so much like charity, like the pity they had faced near every day since the accident and Jon could not stomach such a thing. Not from someone he was in danger of becoming more than fond of.

“Are you sure? We are quite happy to pay you.” Jon said, worrying his lip with his teeth.

“Tell you what if you want to pay me back so badly, you can let me take you out for a coffee.” Tormund said, a hint of understanding in his voice.

Because Jon’s siblings were horrible, those who were in the room obviously managed to overhear that, and they all gained shit-eating grins. He turned so he did not have to see their faces or, in Arya’s case, the inappropriate gestures being flung his way.

“That, that sounds good.” He hoped his voice did not sound as strangled as he thought it was, “And like I’m getting the far better end of the deal.”

Tormund chuckled at him through the phone as they discussed the arrangements to be made for that evening and for the coffee they would be getting at the weekend

And if he turned around and flipped off his siblings while doing so, well they deserved it for laughing at him.

* * *

“Ahh, Jon Stark. Here about your cousin I suppose?” Mrs Mordane pursed her lips as she looked at him, and Jon was forcibly reminded that she had hated him at school.

“Sorry I’m late,” Sansa trilled, settling into the seat next to Jon, “Loras was being rather obstinate about wearing the cape Margaery had designed with him in mind.”

“It’s no trouble Sansa dear. How’s the A level showcase going?”

“Its going great, thank you. Its really nice to be able to display all our work and get feedback on it. Well, when our models are cooperating of course.” Sansa let out a light giggle, one that made Jon tense because that was her _dangerous_ giggle, the one that meant someone was about to be made to feel about two inches tall. “I must have misheard though, as I approached, as I thought you called my darling big brother here a cousin!”

Mrs Mordane dropped her eyes to the desk, “Yes, you must have misheard, its so loud in here after all.”

Sansa smiled sweetly, “I’m so pleased to hear that, I would have hated for the headteacher to hear about the validity of an adoption being dismissed, you know how seriously he takes these things.”

Jon thought he should probably get them back on topic before Sansa delved any deeper into the realm of blackmail, not that he wasn’t thankful for her defence of him of course.

“So, how is Arya doing? Of course we were pleased with her report, but that doesn’t tell us everything. How has she been the past couple of months?” Jon interjected with a pleasant smile to match his pleasant tone.

Mrs Mordane blinked at him before pushing her glasses up her nose and shuffling the paper in front of her.

“Arya is a very bright girl; however a large amount of her work is sloppy and she seems to spend more time with her friends socialising and playing her sports than she does on her homework.”

Jon forced himself to keep the pleasant smile on his face, “We have been slightly more lenient regarding her homework since the accident, allowing her to work out her emotions with her friends and physical activity as was recommended, on the condition that she kept her grades up in class. As far as I can see she did stick to this deal, and she is far more settled then she was at the start of term.”

Sansa leaned forwards before Mrs Mordane could answer, a charming smile o her face, “We are so very grateful for how supportive all Arya’s teachers have been and the compassion we have been shown while we try and work through our grief. We’re sure any blips in Arya’s behaviour or work will be gone next year when she starts her GCSEs, Mum and Dad did always place such a high emphasis on education after all.”

Mrs Mordane smiled back at Sansa, completely wrapped around Jon’s little sister’s finger.

“Well we all know here how hard you have been working to ensure your siblings’ wellbeing.” Mrs Mordane said, “And I must say that all of us are impressed by how well you have stepped up, not that we thought you wouldn’t of course.”

“Thank you, was there anything else you wanted to let us know about Arya?” Jon asked.

She looked down at her notes and papers, “Only that there is a trip coming up for one of her classes to see the Free Folk history exhibit coming up and that permission slips will soon be coming out for that, oh, and there’s a dance coming up for Maiden’s day, which we are encouraging students to attend as the ticket price goes to charity.”

For some strange reason Jon highly doubted Arya would want to o to a dance for Maiden’s day of all things, the pink and hearts very much were not her style. She might surprise them though, so he would pass on the message to the others.

“Well thank you,” Jon said, standing up and holding his hand out for Mrs Mordane to shake, “We’ll work on Arya’s homework with her to try and bring it back up to a higher standard. Can you please pass on our thanks to everyone for their continued patience as we continue to adjust.”

Mrs Mordane shook his hand and cooed over Sansa once more and Jon breathed a sigh of relief as soon as they left the room.

He was so getting Robb to go to the next one.

* * *

Snow fell from the sky, gently swirling around in the yellow light from the coffee shop almost like a scene from one of those romantic movies Sansa loved and Jon pretended he didn’t. He had stolen Robb’s coat for the occasion, it being slightly more presentable than his battered old anorak, and Sansa had wrapped one of her scarves around his neck ‘to add a pop of colour’.

Considering that the scarf was a dark red on anyone else it would not be considered ‘a pop of colour’ at all, but when the rest of his outfit was black, he supposed it was on him.

It was strange how little his siblings had teased him about this, Robb had even seemed genuinely happy for him, and Sansa had seemed almost proud. He did warn them not to get their hopes up, Jon did not have the best luck with relationships, he had only really had one with Satin, a short lived one fuelled by the alcohol and poor decision making skills of Freshers week, (well and the singular time he and Theon had got so drunk they’d shacked up in the bathroom of a club but they had both agreed to never speak of that again).

He hovered outside the coffee shop, waiting for Tormund with his hands stuffed into his pockets, almost absurdly grateful for the scarf as he buried the tip of his nose in it. Hie heart let out a weird flutter when he saw Tormund emerge through the snow flurries with only a thin jacket to pretct him from the cold.

“Hi.” Jon said shyly, smiling up at Tormund.

“You look like a baby bird all bundled up like that,” Tormund said, smiling back, “Shall we go inside before you freeze?”

Jon nodded, suddenly finding himself unable to speak with the sheer warmth in the eyes directed his way.

Tormund opened the door to the café and gestured for him to enter into the cheery warmth.

It was a coffee shop that Jon knew well, one their parents had used to take them too if they got particularly good marks or did well in their various clubs, they’d come here after Sansa’s first dance recital, after Arya’s first bullseye at an archery tournament, after Robb’s first goal, and they’d come here after the adoption was finalised. It was full of good memories, ones that Robb and Jon had already decided they would keep going for their siblings.

And so when Tormund had asked him to recommend a café for them, this had been the first to pop into his head.

The smell of roasting coffee beans and freshly baked cakes filled the air, getting stronger as they approached the counter to place their orders.

“Hey Jeyne,” He said, smiling at Sansa’s friend behind the counter.

“Hi Jon,” She chirped back, her eyes widening as she caught sight of Tormund. “And?”

“This is Tormund.”

Jeyne’s face gained an unholy smirk, “Oh. Well what’ll you be having today? We’ve got a new tea blend in if you are still on your crusade against coffee Jon.”

He ignored the implications of that smirk, despite knowing that everything that happened would be dutifully reported back to his sister, and considered his options.

“I’ll try the new blend please, and a piece of your apple cake, and Tormund will have- “

Tormund rattled off a drink order much more similar to the type that Margaery Tyrell would have had than what Jon would have expected of him, but he did not comment and just paid for it.

They collected their drinks and sat down at a table near the window, one without a lit candle in the centre, as though that would somehow make this seem less like a date in a rom com.

“Thanks again for watching Rickon for us,” Jon said as he clutched his tea tightly to leech a little of the warmth into his still slightly frozen fingers.

“I told you little crow, it was no trouble.” Tormund grinned at him over his own drink. A frothy, sugary concoction with whipped cream and sprinkles.

Jon raised an eyebrow questioningly at the name and Tormund gestured to him.

“Your top.”

Jon looked down and flushed slightly, his top was one that Bran had given to him, one with a crow in open flight across the chest.

“Oh.”

Tormund smiled, “I’m not mocking you; I think your shirt is cute. How did your event go anyway?”

Jon took a long sip to hide his embarrassment at the compliment, “It was fine, parents evening for both Bran and Arya, and I was stuck with Arya’s teacher.”

“Let me guess the teacher was one who didn’t like you?”

Jon nodded, “Arya’s teacher was always rather traditional, shall we say, the type of person who might just have easily become a Septa. And well, my family is not the most traditional, she likes Sansa well enough, but couldn’t really stand the rest of us. I’m just hoping Bran and Rickon won’t have to deal with her in the future.”

A large hand covered his own and squeezed gently. He looked up to meet Tormund’s large blue eyes.

“Don’t you worry little crow, you could always make a request to have your siblings change class if need be. and by the time your brothers are old enough to have that teacher your sister will be old enough to deal with her, wont she?”

Jon smiled weakly, Tormund’s words were true, and perhaps he would have been able to listen to them better had Tormund’s hand not still been upon his own.

“Thank you, I think I needed to hear that.” Jon sipped his drink again, “What is it you do other than care for your adorable daughters?”

“I’m an engineer, I work for Winterfell Industries, transferred there from Rayder Tech.” Tormund suddenly let out a cough of surprise, “I guess technically I work for you.”

Jon blinked at that, he still did not think of his father’s company as his and his siblings.

“Well, my uncle for now, Robb and I have no control in the company until we graduate.” He said, trying to hide his awkwardness, “It was one of the stipulations our parents set out to ensure we got a proper education.”

“Ahh, they sound like good parents.” Tormund said softly, “So what is it that you’re studying?”

“Law, Robb’s studying Geography but you couldn’t catch me dead studying that, I uhh actually failed it at one point.” It was the only class he had ever failed, and one he shared with Sansa, something that made all their siblings laugh.

“How do you fail Geography?” Tormund sounded very confused.

“I managed to confuse the Stormlands and Westerlands, as my teacher was from the Westerlands he was not best impressed.”

Tormund laughed at that, and they continued to chatter for a while until their drinks were gone and they really had no excuse to just sit for any longer. It was with regret that they bundled up to head back into the cold.

“I would like to do this again sometime, if you’re up for it?” Tormund said, one of Jon’s hands clasped in his own.

“I, I would like that.” Jon said.

He smiled up at Tormund and for a moment the thought of what it would be like to kiss him with that beard crossed his mind.

“Then I guess I’ll see you at playgroup on Monday?” Tormund said, releasing Jon’s hand and stepping back.

“I’ll see you on Monday.” Jon would fight his siblings for the chance to do drop off for Rickon on Monday if it gave him the chance to see Tormund again.

They looked at each other for a moment more before turning and heading in opposite directions.

It wasn’t until he reached the car that Jon realised quite how much his cheeks hurt from the grin on his face.


	6. In which Rickon is the most perceptive Stark

Sansa had a number of reasons for keeping her relationship with Margaery secret form her brothers, the first of course, was to see exactly how oblivious they really were, the second was because the moment they found out they would likely start acting weird whenever she came round, and the third, well her brothers were incredibly overprotective. Not that they didn’t have a good reason to be overprotective, what with her past dating history, but still.

Margaery was nothing like Joffrey, she would never give her bruises. Margaery was nothing like Sandor, she would never blame her for her bad temper. Margaery was nothing like Harry, she would never cheat on her with numerous other girls.

But her brothers likely would not see that, and Sansa wanted to put off the explosion for as long as she could.

Hells, she also wanted to put of Arya finding out for as long as she could, it would likely be a more futile effort but the longer she was with Margaery, the less likely she was to be scared off by Arya’s attempt at a shovel talk.

Theon knew, but that was only because he had run into them when they two of them were on a date, and he had been sworn to secrecy on pain of Sansa telling Robb how he felt about him. Sansa was not above blackmail when the situation called for it.

Her hand squeezed her girlfriend’s where it lay upon the table top, so as to get her attention. When Margaery looked up, Sansa held out a forkful of her cake.

“Do you want to try some? It’s really good.”

Margaery smiled, “Sansa Stark offering some of her lemon cake? It must be love.”

Sansa pulled back the fork teasingly, “Well if you don’t want any…”

Her girlfriend all but snatched it from her, and in an uncharacteristic display of poor manners spoke with the cake still in her mouth.

“This is really good.”

Sansa didn’t reply, she was too busy just looking at Margaery and counting her blessings. Had she been told even a year ago that she would be on a date with one of her best friends she would not have believed them.

“Dragon for your thoughts?” Margaery asked, pulling Sansa from her contemplation.

“I’m pretty sure the phrase is normally ‘Star for your thoughts’ Marge.” Sansa replied with a smile, “I was just thinking how lucky I am to be on a date with the Margaery Tyrell.”

Margaery grinned back, “Your thoughts are worth far more than a copper star, and I think you have it backwards, I’m definitely the lucky one here.”

They settled into a sweet silence, sipping their drinks and smiling at each other. For once, Sansa had nowhere else she needed to be, no sibling she needed to worry about, and no coursework that desperately needed completing.

A prickle at her spine, as though she was being watched, made Sansa’s eyes turn away from her girlfriend and towards the direction she felt the stare coming from.

Her gaze met a set of eyes like ice chips, that belonged to a man at least as old as her brothers. The man did not drop his gaze upon being caught, instead he licked his lips and smirked at her. A bolt of ice pooled in her stomach at the sight and she forced herself to drag her gaze back to Margaery.

“Shall we head back to my house?” She offered with forced levity, “I think its only Jon and Rickon at home at the moment, and Jon will be far too distracted talking to his new boyfriend to bother us.”

Thankfully Margaery did not say anything, although there was concern in her eyes, and stood to leave, taking Sansa’s hand as she did so.

Sansa eyed the man as they left, it was likely he was just a creep, but some horrible sense told her he was not that harmless.

* * *

The door to Sansa’s bedroom flung open with a loud bang and Sansa and Margaery sprang apart. To their relief it was merely Rickon instead of one of the older ones, there was the chance he wouldn’t have noticed what they were doing.

“Sansa, why were you and Margie kissing?”

A hope that was very quickly dashed by his words.

“Rickon sweetie, sometimes people kiss when they like each other.” Margaery said sweetly, remarkably unruffled despite being burst in on by Sansa’s baby brother.

Sansa was more panicked, she knew how likely it was that her baby brother would tell the others and they were not ready for that yet.

“Rickon you can’t tell anyone, ok?” Sansa said, a hint of desperation in her voice as she looked at her baby brother.

“What’ll you give me to stop me from telling Robb and Jon?” Unfortunately, Rickon was far too avid a pupil and had learnt from her well.

“If you don’t tell them then I’ll buy you the full-size chocolate for your lunch, instead of the half-size that Robb insists on.” Sansa said, holding her hand out for Rickon to shake.

Rickon made a show of pretending to think about her offer before spitting on his hand and shaking Sansa’s. He must have been listening to Theon again Sansa thought as she wiped her now spit covered hand with a tissue.

“Deal.” He said with all the solemnity he could muster at three years old.

“Thank you, sweetie.” Margaery said, sweeping in and planting a kiss on his cheek. “If you can keep the secret for longer than a month then I shall have Loras take you along to his re-enactment group and let you hold a sword.”

Rickon’s eyes lit up, he had been begging for a chance to hold a sword since he had realised where Jon and Robb disappeared to on Saturdays. But the two of them had always been firmly against any of their younger siblings having any part before they turned thirteen as that was the age their father had allowed them to join.

“My lips are sealed.” He promised, he then seemed to remember why he had come there in the first place, “Sansa, I spilled my milk on the carpet, can you help me clean it up please?”

Any hope of going back to making out with her girlfriend was dashed after those words, no sense of romance could survive such a statement.

* * *

“We’re finding a way to make Hyle Hunt and his band of bullies miserable.” Sansa declared, slamming her hands down on the desk hard enough she nearly knocked over Loras’ antler-festooned travel mug.

He snatched the mug up at looked at her with alarm, “What has he done to earn that? Hyle isn’t that bad a bloke.”

Renly nodded in confusion, and Sansa was reminded that Loras was friends with most of that group through various sports clubs, and so Renly also was by means of association.

She was saved from trying to find a way to explain that did not contain cursing by Margaery’s icy tone.

“Those bastards decided to make a bet over who could get Brienne to sleep with them. They deserve every last bit of misery we can put them through.”

Both Loras and Renly’s eyes hardened, neither of them liked bullies, especially not bullies that targeted one of their friends.

“Where is Brienne anyway?” Renly asked.

Sansa rolled her eyes, of course they didn’t remember, “She has that boxing tournament today, remember?”

Guilt filled both their faces and they grabbed their phones to send off a quick message wishing her luck. Sansa thought she wouldn’t tell them that the tournament had been that morning and by now they were too late, it would only increase their guilt and Brienne would appreciate the messages all the same.

“We do need to do something though, something that will teach them not to do anything like this ever again.” Margaery said sweetly.

Sansa pulled out her notebook, “Arya and I had a brainstorm last night and came up with some ideas, personally I think we should shave off half of one of their eyebrows, but I am open to suggestions.”

Loras looked at her with horror, “That is horrible, how could your brain come up with something like that?”

“Well it’s what we did to Joffrey, and Harry.” Sansa said, “It’s simple and effective, although easier with someone on the inside.”

“Renly dearest,” Loras said to his boyfriend, not taking his eyes off of Sansa’s sweet smile, “Remind me not to annoy Sansa again.”

“Only if you promise me the same.” Renly responded.

Sansa and Margaery both rolled their eyes at the boys’ dramatics, and the Margaery frowned.

“As much as I do like the humiliation that comes with that suggestion, it does not seem quite enough. Their actions have caused harm to our dear, sweet Brienne, and a little humiliation is not enough to teach them the folly of their ways.”

Sansa frowned as well, what Margaery said was the truth, and yet they could only go so far in their machinations, she did not want to cause any trouble for Robb or Jon. Not when they were already struggling to some extent with the misbehaviour of Arya and Rickon (Bran was just as bad as the other two, he was just better at not getting caught).

“You know, instead of coming up with something that would get us in trouble if we got caught we could just tell Davos, I mean Mr Seaworth, he hates stuff like that.” Renly offered.

Sansa did think about his suggestion, did genuinely think it over, but the last time they had tried to tell someone about inappropriate behaviour and bullying the school had done nothing to help. And it was an unwritten rule that sixth formers were supposed to sort out their own problems anyway, to go to the headteacher would be almost like cheating.

“I’ve got it!” Loras announced, Margaery and Sansa exchanged doubtful looks but he insisted, “No seriously, I know what we can do…”

He explained his plan and Sansa did have to admit that it was a good one. She and Margaery nodded, it seemed that Loras' plan was the one they would put into practice. 

Hunt and his friends wouldn't know what hit them. 

* * *

“Sansa?” Arya poked her head around the door to Sansa’s room, looking uncommonly nervous.

“What is it Arya? Did you rip a hole in your school trousers again?”

It seemed like hardly a week went by without Sansa having to do some sort of mending, most commonly on Arya or Rickon’s clothes, although there had been the memorable week when both Robb and Jon had managed to split the crotch on their trousers trying to do the splits for a drunken bet.

Arya stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind her with a slightly shifty expression.

“No, umm, you know how there’s the Maiden’s day dance at school? Well Shireen and Myrcella want to go and it doesn’t actually look like it will be too bad ‘specially not because Trystane is going meaning ‘Cella might finally make a move.” Arya said, as she determinedly did not look up from the floor.

Sansa was pretty sure there was another reason, in the form of Shireen’s cousin and Myrcella’s half-brother, but she did not voice that.

“Let me guess, you’ve realised you have nothing suitable to wear and you don’t want to actually go shopping?” She said instead, and Arya nodded in answer.

Sansa put down the piece of embroidery she was completing and looked at her sister with a faint smile.

“Look through the patterns I have, and my wardrobe, and let’s see if there’s something we can make you to wear.” She offered, “I know you don’t really like skirts, so have you thought about culottes?”

Arya peered at her suspiciously, “Culottes?”

“Yeah, they’re shorts or trousers that look like a skirt.” Sansa explained, “So you could have the aesthetics of a dress but you’re still wearing trousers.”

Arya continued to look at her with some suspicion before she nodded curtly.

“That would be nice, I think.” Her voice was almost shy, and so Sansa just smiled at her.

“Well then, I’m sure we can come up with something you actually like to wear.”

She refrained from saying that Arya could probably show up in a bin bag and Gendry would still look at her like she was the most amazing person in the room. If Arya wanted to do something ‘girly’ for once, then Sansa was not going to stop her, and she would make sure that none of the boys mocked her for it.


	7. In which family visits can be awful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild plot thread appears. 
> 
> Just a warning for people, in the last scene there is a mention of a drink being spiked, if this will affect you please just skip the scene, and if you want a summary just ask me. Nothing bad happens but still.

For once the house was peaceful, Jon and Arya were out, Rickon was playing quietly in his room, Sansa was baking in the kitchen, and Bran was attempting to talk to birds in the garden. It was the perfect time for Robb to have a nap on the sofa.

His dreams were strange though, full of laughing green eyes, but despite their strangeness they were pleasant, or at least unti hey faded away when a bony finger jabbed his shoulder, pulling him into wakefulness.

“Hey, you, you’re finally awake. Trying to cross the border, right?” Bran leaned over him with a slightly evil grin and Robb groaned.

“I swear to the gods Bran, if you woke me up from my peaceful nap to make that fucking joke then I’m going to skin you.”

“Actually I was going to tell you that Aunt Lysa is here.” Bran’s grin went even more evil and Robb had to resist the urge to kick his little brother when he looked past his brother and saw his aunt stood there.

“Aunt Lysa!” Robb kept a carefully crafted smile on his face as he greeted their aunt.

She sniffed at him and looked very disapproving, “I hope that kind of language is not common in this house.”

“Of course not.” Robb said, “I was merely tired, Rickon had some fairly bad nightmares last night, and I was up trying to soothe him.”

He wasn’t, but hopefully Aunt Lysa would accept that excuse, and he knew none of his siblings liked her enough to reveal his slight lie to her.

His aunt sniffed again, but her husband placed his hand on her arm, “Its impressive that it was you doing that, most boys would have left soothing a toddler to their sister.”

Robb forced himself to keep smiling at Petyr, “Well it would be unfair to make Sansa or Arya take care of Rickon, just because they are girls. Jon and I split the care equally, and the others help when they wish.”

He was reminded why he did not like his aunt’s husband when the man gave him a look filled with what could only be described as disgust.

“How modern of you.”

Robb glared slightly at Bran when his brother looked like he was going to say something, the less painful they could make this visit, the better. And if they were lucky, Aunt Lysa would consider her duty done for the next few months and they wouldn’t have to put up with her for a while.

“Did you bring Robin with you?” Robb asked brightly, “Because I’m sure Bran would be happy to entertain him for a while, you’ve missed Arya and Jon unfortunately, Arya has a dance lesson at the moment and its Jon’s turn to take her.”

He didn’t mention that Arya actually had a water dancing lesson, he did not think his aunt would approve of a girl learning how to swordfight, no matter that their father had been the one to arrange the lessons as Arya’s Sevenmas present.

Lysa nodded curtly, “Sweetrobin’s in the car, I did not want his allergies set off by your dogs.”

Robb would not let himself feel offended by those words, by the assumption that he was unable to keep the house as clean as his mother had; for Lysa had never done such a thing while his parents were alive.

“Well that can be solved, I’ll just put the dogs out in the garden if you want to collect him from the car. Are you going to stay for lunch?”

“We would be delighted to.” Petyr said, “What is that lovely smell?”

The air was filled with the scent of sugar, butter and lemons from whatever Sansa was baking, likely lemon cakes but it could have been anything else lemon flavoured as Sansa had been inventive recently with her recipes.

“Sansa’s been baking.” Bran said, “She stress bakes sometimes. And sometimes she just bakes. I don’t know which one this is. Although the ravens would probably tell me if I asked them.”

Robb wasn’t sure whether Bran was being deliberately unhelpful or whether he was just being Bran. It was difficult to tell sometimes, especially when he was talking about the birds.

Oh shit, he would need to have a talk with Bran about the birds and the bees at some point… or maybe he could pass the honour to Jon.

He had time before that would be necessary though, and had to deal with his aunt before then without her deciding that he was a terrible influence on his siblings and without punching her husband for the way he looked at Sansa.

Robb chivvied all the dogs outside, promising them treats for later if they behaved. He didn’t think the dogs actually understood his words, but he could be wrong for they were all intelligent creatures. (Too intelligent in Nymeria’s case, he didn’t know how she managed to get the dog food bin open, only that she did.)

Upon re-entering the house he overheard Sansa telling Bran to play nice with Robin, which was most definitely a relief, as he didn’t want to have to deal with tears or tantrums.

“Thanks for that.” He said to her once Bran had left the kitchen, “Do you know what we can whip up for lunch that would be suitable for Aunt Lysa?”

Sansa frowned, “Well I was planning on doing beans on toast for lunch, but I suppose she wouldn’t accept that. I think we have the veg needed to make a quick soup? And I have just made a loaf of bread, so that could go with it.”

It was a better idea than any Robb had and he smiled at her in thanks as he moved to the fridge to see what they had that could go in a soup that Rickon and Bran would eat.

“Roast tomato like mum used to make?” He called to her when he saw they had far more tomatoes than they would eat otherwise, whoever had done the shopping must have done it on autopilot without checking what they actually needed.

“Sounds good. I’ll find the balsamic.” Sansa called back and for a moment she sounded so terribly like their mother that Robb had to remind himself that it was his sister and not his mother rifling through the cupboards.

“So what dd you bake anyway, other than the bread?” Robb asked as the two of them moved to prepare the meal.

“I found a new lemon cake recipe, wanted to test it out.” Sansa gestured to the window where a beautifully iced cake sat, “I suppose we should probably cut into it after lunch.”

Robb was prevented from answering by the oily tone of their aunt’s husband.

“Sansa dear, its been so long since I last saw you.” Petyr said, “Care to give your uncle a hug?”

Sansa smiled sweetly and raised her hands, “I would, but I’m all garlicy at the moment, and wouldn’t want to get any on your suit.”

Petyr cringed away as Sansa must have known he would when she chose to be the one to deal with the garlic, and it was the knowledge that Sansa could deal with him that kept Robb from breaking his nose.

A sharp cry came from upstairs, from the direction of Rickon’s room, and Sansa hurried to the sink to wash her hands.

“I’ll go check on him, he must have just woken from his nap. He can be a little cranky when he wakes up.” Sansa said, the sweet smile still plastered onto her face.

Robb finished the prep and put the veg in the oven to cook, it was a fairly quick recipe but he would still have to make conversation in the time it took for everything to be done.

“Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” He offered Petyr, even if he didn’t like the man his mother had raised him to be polite.

“Tea please.”

Robb nodded and moved around to gather the teapot and cups his parents had kept for company, he already knew Lysa would drink tea as her rant over the perils of caffeine when she saw Sansa drinking coffee was incredibly memorable. No one had mentioned to her that some blends of tea contained just as much caffeine.

He set a timer on his phone for when the veg would be done and carried the tea tray through to the living room as he would rather not hear Lysa comment on the non-organic snacks that sat out on the sides.

“Ahh, Sansa.” He heard Lysa say from the hallway, “And Rickon. How good it is to see the pair of you. I trust you are well?”

Sansa said something non-committal in response, and Robb could see how close she was to rolling her eyes when she entered the room with Rickon perched on her hip.

Rickon rubbed at his eyes blearily, but perked up a bit when he saw Robb. He wriggled in Sansa’s grip asking to be put down, and when she did, he ran over to Robb on unsteady feet.

“Robb!” He called out happily as he ran over and bounced in his way of asking to be picked up.

Robb swung him up onto his lap and tickled him lightly, “Hey there little wolf, did you have a nice sleep?”

Rickon wriggled and nodded, before settling to curl up against Robb’s chest, his thumb making its way into his mouth.

“You let your brother suck his thumb?” Aunt Lysa asked disdainfully, “Are you not aware of the germs and the damage it will do to his teeth?”

“We have been trying to break him of the habit, Aunt Lysa.” Sansa said softly, “But we haven’t had the heart to do it recently, it would be cruel to take a coping mechanism away from a toddler.”

Her words were soft but pointed, and Rob could almost see Lysa wince from the force of them. She had no room to speak about babying a child, not when her Robin was a spoilt brat on a good day.

“Shall I be mother?” Sansa asked sweetly, moving to the tea pot. She carefully poured tea into the porcelain cups painted with delicate winter roses, as well as into a plastic tea cup patterned with paw prints for Rickon.

“Thank you sweetling.” Petyr leered up at her, and it was only Rickon’s presence in his lap that stopped Robb from punching the man.

“So how is Robin doing in school, Aunt Lysa?” Sansa asked, ignoring Petyr and proving once again she had most of the social skills in their family.

Their aunt began to tell some story about their cousin that Robb paid little attention to, he was slightly mor occupied by ensuring that Rickon did not spill his milky tea all over himself, and he knew Sansa was perfectly capable of making small talk enough for the both of them.

“Robb.” Rickon slapped his hand against Robb’s cheek, “Where’s Shaggy?”

Robb bounced him slightly, “Shaggy is outside with Summer and the others, dogs make Robin sick so they need to stay in the garden until he leaves.”

Rickon frowned, “Couldn’t Robin go outside instead? Shaggy is more fun.”

He would not laugh at the look of offense on his aunt’s face. He would not laugh. He would not laugh.

When the alarm went off on his phone telling him to go back to the kitchen, he was so very thankful. He didn’t think he could hold back his laughter much longer.

* * *

Sansa and Jon had shooed him out of the house to go and meet Theon, had told him that he deserved it after the way he managed to keep his temper with Aunt Lysa and Petyr. Robb was not going to argue about having a night off, even if Theon did insist on dragging him to a bar.

‘The Golden Lion’ wasn’t too bad, even if it was run by a Lannister. It was clean and the drinks were both good quality and relatively cheap, meaning it was fairly popular with students.

“You go grab us a table, I’ll buy the first round.” Theon ordered, and Robb rolled his eyes but obeyed.

He managed to find a table that gave them a good view of the rest of the bar, and grinned at Theon as he came over with beers for them both.

“So from what I heard you need this.” Theon offered.

Robb sighed, “Yeah, my aunt and her husband came ‘round today, which is stressful at the best of times. Worse still when the husband hits on Sansa in front of everyone and only my aunt is oblivious to it. Even Rickon picked up on it.”

Theon screwed up his face in disgust, “That’s just gross, isn’t he like fifty?”

“Early forties, I think.” Robb took a long drink of his beer, “He grew up with my mum.”

“That makes it so much worse.” Theon shuddered.

Robb shuddered as well; it really did make the whole thing so much worse.

“Anyone at this bar take your fancy then?” He asked, trying desperately to change the subject.

Theon looked around appraisingly, “One or two. What about you?”

Robb smiled back, “One or two.”

A dark-haired girl in particular caught his eye, she had her head thrown back in laughter at something her friend had said and the joy on her face was a delight to behold.

Theon grinned at him, “Tell you what, if you manage to get her number before I manage to get that guy’s number, I’ll buy the pizza next movie night.”

It was a tempting offer, one that Robb took his friend up on. It should be easy enough to get the girl’s number, he had friends who had often complained about his ‘boyish charm’.

He was not helped however, when Theon slapped his arse as he stood and called out in a voice that could not be missed.

“Go get ‘em pookums.”

Sometimes Robb really hated his best friend.

He approached the girl, looking as bashful as he could.

“Hi, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, but I just couldn’t help myself from coming over because you are so beautiful.”

She looked at him hard and then raised her hand.

“How dare you!” She slapped him hard enough to rock his head to one side, “How very dare you attempt to hit on me when your partner is right there!”

Robb honestly had no idea what she was talking about, the only person he was there with was Theon. Theon, who even as the girl flounced away was speaking to a dark-haired man, gesturing wildly as he only did when he was drunk.

Not that Theon should be drunk, they had only had a couple of drinks and Robb knew he hadn’t been pre drinking. Something was wrong if he was at the wild gestures stage of drunkenness already.

Robb ran a hand over his reddening cheek and made his way over to Theon.

“Whoa, Robbie, did you insult her mother or something?” Theon slurred at him.

Robb grinned back bashfully, “She thought I was trying to cheat on my partner with her. Must have got me confused with someone else.”

“Hah!” Theon barked a laugh, “This is… is…”

It was obvious Theon did not remember the man’s name, which was just as worrying as the slurred speech. Theon was usually excellent at remembering names and only needed to hear them once to be able to recall them.

“I’m Ramsay.” The man stuck his hand out for Robb to shake, and although he had a warm smile, his eyes were as cold as ice.

Robb shook his hand, “Robb. Pleasure to meet you Ramsay, have you just met Theon then?”

Ramsay bared his teeth in a smile, “Yes, although I have seen him around before. We share a lecture.”

There was something about the bowl of nuts by Theon that struck a warning bell in Robb’s head, just as much as Theon’s actions did.

He stole the glass from Theon’s hand and took the barest sip, salt hit his tongue. Words of warning that his father had given him and Jon and Sansa popped to the front of his mind, of what a salty taste in a drink actually meant.

Someone, and Robb would give his left nut if it wasn’t ‘Ramsay’, was drugging Theon.

He smiled as though nothing was wrong and placed the glass down out of Theon’s reach.

“I actually came over because I had a message from Jon,” Robb lied, “Rickon apparently has demanded that you read him a bedtime story, he’s refusing to sleep without it.”

Theon blinked slowly at him, it was a believable lie, had happened before.

“Well, we can’t deny mini me his bedtime story.” Theon said, attempting to stand.

Robb pressed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll just go settle our tab while you gather your bearings. I’ll only be a moment.”

He moved over to the bar and caught the eye of the bartender, he knew they took a poor view of spiking drinks, knew that despite the owner being a huge arsehole Tyrion Lannister would have anyone found doing such a thing banned from the premises.

“My friend over there has had his drink spiked.” Robb said quietly to the Lorathi woman tending the bar, “I think it was done by the man near him.”

The bartender, Shae he thought her nametag read, leaned so she could see. She nodded when she saw and cursed softly.

“He’s been accused before, but managed to weasel out of it. I’ll make sure Tyrion knows, are you going to be able to get your friend home safely or would you like me to call you a taxi?” She said, just as quietly.

Robb shook his head, “I just need to call my brother, he’ll come pick us up. I just thought you should know in case he tries it on someone else.”

The bartender smiled, “Well thanks for letting me know. I hope you get home safely and your friend is alright.”

Robb nodded at her as he pulled out his phone and quickly called Jon.

“Jon, I need to you to come pick Theon and I up. We’ve got into a spot of bother, and no for once it isn’t a barfight.”

Jon yawned at him down the phone but agreed and told him that he would be there as soon as he could. It was lucky really that Sansa wasn’t staying at Margaery’s that evening as otherwise Jon would have to put the others in the car as well.

When he was reassured that he wouldn’t have to wait long for Jon he went to go collect Theon, he hadn’t let him leave his sight but he would be more comfortable when he could hold him up himself.

“Come on, you great lug.” He said, pulling Theon’s arm over his shoulder, “Jon will be here soon and Rickon wants his story time.”

Theon giggled, “Rather come on you.”

Robb determinedly didn’t pay Theon’s words any mind, Theon would and had flirted with a brick wall when he was drunk so he knew to take anything he said with a pinch of salt.

It was difficult to ignore however when Theon began to whisper them against his neck in between placing sloppy kisses there. Gods forbid anyone know sober Theon has feelings, but drunk Theon vomited them out into the world for all to see, even when the actual object of his affections was not there.

Jon’s car pulled up before too long, and Robb was ridiculously thankful for it. Theon was starting to get heavy and he wanted to get some water into his friend before he fell asleep.

“This is an early night for the two of you.”” Jon yawned as Robb poured Theon into the backseat.

“Yeah, well, stuff came up.” Robb grumbled, “Theon’s going to stay with us tonight, I don’t trust him at home by himself.”

Jon raised an eyebrow but just nodded in agreement. Sometimes Robb was very thankful his brother was a man of few words.


	8. In which Jon is resigned to Arya's schemes

Despite popular opinion Jon did not actually hate Theon.

Did he think that Theon was annoying? Yes. Did he think that Theon in no way deserved Robb? Also yes. Did he hate him? No.

He did think, however, that Theon should just man up and actually tell Robb that he liked him as more than a friend and had done so for a good five years.

He was also slightly pissed that Theon had vomited in his car last night, after he had gone to collect Theon and Robb from ‘The Golden Lion’ but when Robb had explained what had actually happened, most of the annoyance had become concern. He did reserve the right to be slightly annoyed though, especially since he had just cleaned the inside of his car.

Jon did feel slightly sorry for Theon when he saw quite how miserable he was, his head on the kitchen table with his arms shielding his eyes from the light. Sansa was not yet awake, so no coffee had been made and Robb was out with all the dogs.

He moved to the kettle and put it on, and prepared Theon’s favourite mug with enough coffee and sugar that even Sansa would wince.

Once the kettle had finished, he plonked the mug down in front of Theon “Drink up Greyjoy.”

Theon groaned but the scent of the coffee seemed to rouse him enough to be able to lift his head.

“Th’nks.” He grunted and took a long drink of the coffee, seemingly uncaring of how it was hot enough to burn.

Jon grinned and went about preparing food to entice his siblings out of their rooms, they all slept late on Sundays as the only errand that had to be run was the weekly food shop which could easily be done at any time during the day.

“You know Greyjoy.” He said conversationally while moving around the kitchen, “You aren’t subtle. And Robb’s a bit of an idiot. Rather than showing him your feelings, just snog him, I’m sure he’ll get the message.”

The sound of coffee being spit upon the table and the spluttering of Theon brought a grin to his face.

He might not hate Theon, but he did enjoy making him suffer.

* * *

“I want to come shopping with you.”

Jon turned to stare at Arya, “You hate shopping. With a passion.”

She had the audacity to roll her eyes at him, “I might hate shopping but I need to get some things from the shop. And if I ask you to get them, you’ll ask too many questions. Its easier this way.”

Jon found himself wanting to ask her what exactly she wanted and what she planned on doing with it, but that would probably lead him down a rabbit hole he did not want to enter.

“Fine, you can come. But you are helping me carry the shopping to the car, not just running off doing your own thing.”

Arya grinned and hugged him, “This is why you’re my favourite.”

“Why because I let myself become an accomplice in a scheme that is almost certainly going to get us yelled at by Sansa later?” He rolled his eyes and hugged her back.

“Well, that’s not the only reason.” She grinned up at him sheepishly.

Jon ruffled her hair, “Go get your shoes on then, you little monster, I’m leaving in five minutes and if you aren’t in the car, I’m leaving without you.”

Arya ran off to find whatever it was she wanted while Jon moved to grab the shopping bags and the list from the fridge. Undoubtedly someone would have forgotten to add something to the list and there would be a dash to the shops to get it, but the list did work moderately well.

Even with Bran and Arya (and Theon’s) additions to the list.

Arya ran to the car like a pack of direwolves were at her heels and threw herself into her seat, only putting her seatbelt on when Jon raised an eyebrow at her. She knew why she needed to wear a seatbelt but she always tried to get away without wearing one.

He let her choose the music in the car on the understanding that she would be helping him in the shop, and it all went well until a flash of blue caught his eye and he peered around the corner.

He spotted someone leaving the aisle he wanted to go down and quickly ducked back, grabbing hold of Arya as he went.

“Nope. We are waiting here for a while.”

She looked up at him like he was crazy, and Jon realised he would have to explain to her.

“I saw Aegon and Jon down there, I hadn’t realised that Elia was back. And I don’t really want to have anything to do with my half-siblings, not if it means having to deal with Rhaegar again.” He explained, trying not to let the disquiet at the thought of having to deal with the Targaryen side of his family show.

“Why? Are you afraid they’ll try to make you go with them?” She asked innocently and Jon snorted.

“I know they will. Rhaegar opposed the adoption, did you know? It took dad and Elia over a year to convince him it was the best thing for me.”

“Oh.” Arya went very quiet and started to look at the shelves, she didn’t remember the adoption really, she’d only been three when it took place.

Jon looked at the list to try and work out what else they might need that wasn’t on there, and why some of the items were. (Full size chocolate for Rickon’s lunches? In Sansa’s handwriting? He wondered what Rickon had caught her doing to require that bribe)

“Jon? Can we get the stuff to make pizza this week?” Arya asked, glancing at the stuff on the shelves.

“is there a particular reason why?”

Arya looked at him and then looked away quickly, “I was hoping I could have some friends round later this week.”

Jon made a show of thinking about it before grinning at his little sister, “all right then. Go pick out the toppings you want, and I’ll meet you in the coffee aisle.”

She hugged him quickly before dashing off, he expected she would gather the other bits she wished to buy at the same time

He stuck his head around the corner and sighed in relief when he saw that his half-brother and his half-brother’s godfather was gone, that he had tarried long enough he would not likely bump into them. It might be craven to avoid them, but he would not be dragged into the Targaryen drama again if he could avoid it.

It was slightly more peaceful gathering the rest of the shopping without Arya dogging his steps and asking for things she knew he would say no to, not that he would ever admit it to her as she would take great offense indeed. It probably would have been more peaceful had he not been concerned about checking he would not be running into Aegon at all, something he would likely be paranoid about until they left again.

Maybe he could convince Sansa or Robb to trade with him next time it was his turn to shop?

Arya waited for him in the coffee aisle as she was asked to, her arms full of various items that had Jon doing a double take (but only after he had put coffee grounds in the trolley for Sansa would remove his guts through his mouth if he forgot the coffee).

“Birdseed. Why do you want to buy birdseed? And… are those water balloons?”

Arya rolled her eyes at him and did not deign to answer and Jon was struck by a sudden realisation that no matter what happened with those materials it would inevitably lead to them all getting yelled at by Sansa.

“Fine. Don’t tell me then. But when you get into trouble, I played no part in it.”

“You can say that all you want, but you know Robb and Sansa will label you an accomplice anyway.”

Jon sighed, unfortunately his baby sister was right.

* * *

“Jooon.” Rickon whined, hanging on his hand.

“Rickoooon.” Jon whined back.

Rickon pouted up at him and Jon tried very hard not to laugh.

“Jon its been a month! And you said that if I didn’t swear at anyone then you would take me and Lyanna to get ice cream.”

Had it been a month already? Jon had to think about it, but his baby brother was right, a month had passed and he was owed ice cream.

“Tell you what munchkin, I’ll go and speak to Lyanna’s mummy and see if its alright for her to come ‘round later. If it isn’t then I’ll try and arrange something for the weekend, is that ok?”

Rickon looked at him suspiciously, but nodded and stuck out his hand for Jon to shake.

“Ok. But if you’re lying then I’m going to tell Sansa that you’re a poopy head.”

If Jon didn’t know that Rickon was entirely serious and that their sister would make him feel incredibly guilty for upsetting Rickon, then he would have laughed at how much Rickon looked like Robb in that moment.

“Of course.” Jon shook Rickon’s hand and then shooed him off to go and play with the others.

A warm hand settled on his back and Jon tilted his head to see Tormund stood behind him, a warm smile on his face.

“So your brother’s getting his ice cream then?”

Jon smiled back, “Yes, who knew bribery could be so effective?”

Tormund barked out a laugh that caused warmth to fill Jon’s stomach.

“All parents use bribery, little crow. Its as useful as bedtimes and threats of no dessert.” Tormund’s voice turned pensive, “I need to follow through on a promise of reward for Munda actually, now you remind me, she hasn’t tried to bite anyone since we moved here.”

It was gratifying to know that he and Robb weren’t the only ones to use bribery to try and get the kids in their care to behave. It was also gratifying to know that at least they didn’t need to worry about biting only swearing.

“Well you and the girls would be welcome to join us.” Jon offered, almost without thinking abut it, “There’s a little ice cream parlour in town, Hardholme, and despite the owner having what can only be described as a dead stare, it’s a nice place.”

“Well, if you’re sure your brother won’t mind.”

“If he minds, he’ll forget all about it the moment we arrive at the ice cream parlour. And truth be told, it’ll do him good to make friends with people other than Lyanna.”

Jon noted absently that Tormund’s eyes crinkled at the corner as he smiled, it was a nice smile, one that lit up his whole face and softened his features.

“Then I’d be happy to join you. I take it that you still need to ask Lyanna’s mother, but send me a message when you know.”

Jon nodded to him and smiled in return, “Of course.” He looked at his watch and cursed softly, “I’ve kept you late, I’m so sorry.”

Tormund winced as he looked at his watch in turn, “Its no problem, my boss knows I have two little ones, he’ll think they took longer than usual to get ready is all.”

“Well if he does question it, just tell him that it was mine and Rickon’s fault, Uncle Benjen knows that it is entirely possible.” Jon offered guiltily, he spoke the truth though, Uncle Benjen did know that Jon knew Tormund and that Rickon went to the same playgroup as his daughters, so he would accept that.

“Thank you, I’ll probably see you later.” Tormund squeezed his hand briefly and rushed out with a final wave to his girls.

Jon watched him go before turning his eye to scan over the last of the parents left, Lyanna was often one of the last to be dropped off at the playgroup so Maege should still be there.

“Hello Jon,” Maege smiled at him as he approached, “How are you and your siblings doing?”

“We’re doing good, thanks.” Jon smiled back, Maege had been a friend of the family for years and she had helped them a lot in the first few weeks after the accident. “Arya’s actually planning on going to the Maiden’s day dance at her school, and Bran’s teacher only has nice things to say about him.”

“That’s excellent. Was there something you needed? I’m happy to rope Dacey or Alysanne into babysitting if you need it.”

“Thanks for the offer, but we’re ok at the moment, actually I was going to ask if Lyanna could come ‘round later. I promised Rickon I’d take him for ice cream if he behaved and he’s asked if Lyanna can come too.”

Maege’s smile widened, “Of course, it’ll be the easier for the both of us if we don’t try to separate them. I’ll just let Osha know what’s happening and write you a note as well.”

* * *

When he went to collect Rickon he carried in his hand the permission slip to collect Lyanna as well, Maege had told the person on duty, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

He stood with Tormund as they waited for the doors to open and enjoyed the closeness of the other, they had met up a few times since going for coffee and Jon still got a little zing of excitement in his chest when he saw him.

Rickon rushed to him with great speed as he was released from playgroup and jumped at him like the dogs did in greeting, Jon caught him as he always did and swung him around in a circle.

“Hello there, little wolf pup.” He greeted, “Are you hungry for some ice cream?”

Rickon let out a loud cheer that had other parents turning to look at them but Jon did not care about their staring, not when they were staring because Rickon was happy as opposed to the pitying stares they had received before.

“Go gather Lyanna, she’s coming with us.” Jon said and Rickon nodded before starting to run off, “And so are Munda and Torva!”

He could visualise the eye roll his baby brother had just done, but found he did not care when a large hand slipped into his own.

As soon as Rickon returned with the three girls in tow and they had all been signed out they left the crowded building to split into the two cars.

Jon had been given Lyanna’s booster seat by Maege that morning so he strapped her in next to Rickon and dutifully put on the toddler-safe playlist that Sansa had put together for him and Robb after she caught Rickon singing some rather explicit song lyrics.

The ride to the ice cream parlour passed quickly as Rickon and Lyanna sang along to the music and babbled at each other in equal measure, he made sure though to grab both of their hands once out of the car for both had a propensity to not look where they were going and he did not trust them to not wander off.

Rickon broke free from Jon’s grip as they entered the store and rushed to the display of flavours, his eyes somehow even larger in his face.

“I want chocolate and strawberry and lemon and and…” Rickon blurted out as he looked at the display.

Jon put and hand on his brother’s shoulder, “No. You know the rule, until your age is two numbers you only get one scoop of ice cream. Otherwise Robb will cry about it being unfair and Sansa will get mad because you spoiled your dinner.”

Rickon pouted at him but did not argue, he knew when it was a battle he would not win. Especially not when that rule had been their parents’ rule.

“Fine.” Rickon did not stomp his foot but Jon could tell he wanted to, “I want chocolate.”

Jon clicked his tongue, “That’s not how we ask is it? Only polite little boys get ice cream, rude little boys have to sit and watch as their friends eat ice cream.”

I wold like chocolate please, Jon.” Rickon asked, “With sprinkles please?”

He smiled down at his brother and felt a tug on his hand on his other side.

“I would like honeycomb please Jon.” Lyanna asked, far more polite than she usually was. Perhaps she thought his threat to Rickon applied to her too.

He ordered and paid for their ice cream from the owner of the store, an N. King. No one knew the man’s first name, only the glares he shot to those who dared to enter his store.

There was a table they always used, the only one big enough to hold all the Starks in the store, the perfect size really for their little group. Rickon and Lyanna scurried over to it, dragging Munda and Torva as they did so and leaving Jon and Tormund to carry the ice cream over.

The children all cheered when their sugary treats were set down in front of them as well as when Jon congratulated Rickon on not swearing and Tormund congratulated Munda on not biting.

Despite the animosity that Rickon claimed with Munda, the pair grinned at each other quite happily over their scoops of ice cream and eagerly began to argue with Lyanna and Torva as to why wolves were far better than bears.

More ice cream found its way onto Rickon’s face than into his mouth it seemed, but there was no point in cleaning him up until after he had finished as he would only get dirty again almost instantly. Instead Jon leaned back and enjoyed his own ice cream.

He watched with a smile as Tormund entertained Rickon and Lyanna with tales of wolves and bears, he was good with them while still ensuring that his own children felt included. It was masterfully done and Jon felt his heart swell at the sight and-

Oh.

_Oh._


	9. In which Sansa has to be the disciplinarian

Sansa would never admit it, but she had tears in her eyes when she helped Arya get ready for the Maiden’s Day dance. It shouldn’t have been her doing Arya’s hair and running for the shoe polish because Arya had suddenly realised she needed to clean her boots; it should have been their mother doing that instead.

Somehow she and Arya had managed to work together well enough to make an outfit that Arya did not hate, an old top of Jon’s that Sansa had resized to fit properly as a dress with split skirts, paired with tights and boots. It was feminine enough for the dance, but still completely Arya in style considering the crowned wolf that emblazoned the front.

The not-quite-a-dress had been the extent of Arya’s willingness to dress up, she’d refused any offers of make up and had only wanted her hair pulled back so it didn’t get in her face, but Sansa had secured it with a clip that had been their mum’s.

“You look very pretty Arya.” Sansa said one she was finished with her fussing, “Robb and Jon will have to fight the boys off with sticks when they come to pick you up.”

Arya scowled at her, “Boys are stupid, and I’m not pretty, not like you.”

“Boys are very stupid, that is true.” Sansa hummed, “But you are pretty, when you don’t try to hide it by stealing Robb’s jumpers.”

Robb still did not know where his jumpers disappeared to, and he had not quite cottoned onto the link between them disappearing and Arya wearing jumpers far too big for her. Their brother might have been intelligent, but he was not very smart sometimes.

Arya’s scowl did not fade, but a spot of red appeared high on her cheeks.

“Shut up.” She grumbled and moved to gather her phone and the ticket she had already bought.

Sansa shut up, but she couldn’t keep the grin from forming on her face.

She trailed after her sister as she stomped down the stairs, and sent a glare over Arya’s head at their brothers to warn them to not make a big deal out of Arya’s outfit.

They paid attention to her glare and merely grinned at Arya, although Robb did hold up their dad’s camera and insist on getting a picture. It was something their dad would have insisted on though, so rather than feeling mocking or anything it was just a tradition being upheld.

Arya rolled her eyes but let him take the picture, and then let him take another when Rickon photobombed the first.

Sansa discreetly took a picture and sent it to Margaery, she had helped when Sansa was designing the dress and she wanted another’s opinion on how it had turned out. If the string of emojis was anything to go by, Margaery definitely approved.

Jon clapped his hands together, “Come on then Arya, we had better get a move on if yu don’t want to be too late.”

Arya grumbled but went with him, before she went though Sansa pulled her into a hug.

“If you want to leave at anytime just give me a call ok? And don’t do anything stupid just because your friends are.” She whispered into Arya’s ear.

Her sister punched her in the arm but nodded her head, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun. Besides, even if I don’t actually dance, it’ll be worth it to watch Myrcella moon over Trystane.”

Sansa grinned at her, “Have fun then!”

With a final roll of her eyes Arya left with Jon to go to her dance, leaving Robb and Sansa with Bran and Rickon.

Robb turned to them, “Who wants ice cream?”

* * *

The phone rang in its cradle with a piercing ring that made Sansa exchange glances with Jon and Robb as they all tried to get out of answering it. Calls through to the landline were never good, for if they weren’t marketing then they belonged to one of the few adults that used that number which were those they did not like enough to give their mobile numbers to.

Sansa lost the argument they had with their glares and stood to answer the phone, flipping off her brothers as she did so.

“Hello?”

“Hello Little Dove,” the dulcet voice of Cersei Lannister echoed down the phone, “Are either of your brothers in at the moment?”

Both Robb and Jon looked at her with pleading gazes and she decided to take pity on them both.

“I’m sorry Ms Lannister, both of them are out at the moment, but I can take a message of you’d like?”

They would owe her big time for this and she made sure to convey it through her glare to them.

“I suppose you’ll have to. We’ve been confused recently, by how much bird excrement there appears to be on my sweet Joff’s car, when none of the other cars have any on it! So we thought to set up a camera to see what was happening.”

Sansa did not like where this was going.

“Imagine our surprise when we caught your little sister on the camera with a bag of birdseed, throwing it at Joff’s car so birds would land on it.”

“I am so sorry Ms Lannister, really,” Sansa gushed down the phone, her eyes promising death at the snickers of Jon, “She’s been one a funny mood lately, and not talking to us. It’s just been difficult, mum was the only one who could get through to her.”

A lie, their father always understood Arya better, but Cersei had hated Ned Stark so any mention of him was sure to fuel a fire.

“I understand how difficult it must be for you Little Dove, not having a mother around.” Cersei cooed, “We won’t be attempting to press charges this time, but if it happens again...”

Sansa understood that threat perfectly, why the fuck had Arya chosen Cersei of all people to attack like that? She knew how vindictive the woman could be.

“Thank you so much for your understanding!” Sansa cooed back, “Don’t worry Arya won’t even think of looking at a bird again when I’m through with her.”

She and Cersei exchanged meaningless pleasantries and goodbyes and Sansa put the phone back in the cradle with deliberate, calm movements.

“ARYA STARK! YOU GET YOUR SCRAWNY BUTT DOWN HERE NOW!”

Robb and Jon flinched at her shout but she did not let that stop her from continuing, “BRANDON! RICKON! BOTH OF YOU HAD BETTER GET IN HERE AS WELL!”

“I’ll go wait outside Arya’s window in case she tries to escape again.” Jon offered quietly, moving to do so.

That was a fair assumption to make, Arya had often tried to run away from the consequences of her actions by climbing out of her window.

Rickon entered the room with a pout firmly on his face and he threw himself onto the sofa with a huff worthy of Jon at his most dramatic. He was closely followed by Bran who looked utterly unsurprised by the summons, an expression that implicated him in the ‘prank’ just as much as the mention of birds had.

The sound of an angry yell echoed from outside and Sansa caught Robb grinning at the fact that Jon was apparently right and Arya had tried to do a runner.

She was carried slung over Jon’s shoulder, hissing and spitting all the while, into the living room where she was dumped with all due ceremony at Sansa’s feet. She laid there dramatically until Sansa raised an eyebrow at her, at which point Arya scrambled to her feet with a scowl.

“Would any of you like to explain why I just had a phone call from Cersei Lannister?” Sansa asked in what she hoped was a pleasant tone of voice, “Anyone?”

Three pairs of innocent appearing eyes looked up at her and Sansa knew that she had to pull out the biggest weapon in her arsenal. She raised a single eyebrow and quirked her lips down ever so slightly until she was mimicking their mother’s ‘disappointed face’ perfectly.

(She knew it was a perfect copy because she had once spent three months practicing it until it was)

Her sweet little baby brother broke first, he stepped out of reach of Bran and Arya and took hold of Sansa’s hand.

“I heard Arya sneaking out of her room the other day, is it something to do with that?” Rickon asked, in a voice that was so innocent it was obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Why you little!” Arya tried to launch herself at Rickon but Jon caught her once more, she was predictable when angry and they all knew to anticipate her moves.

“Bran,” Robb moved to look at their brother, “What do you know about this? Arya wouldn’t have come up with anything bad enough for Cersei to acknowledge our existence without someone else’s input, not when it needed as much planning as this must have.”

“Joffrey’s been bullying Myrcella and Tommen again.” Bran explained, “And Cersei isn’t doing anything about it, so we wanted to make him have an outburst of anger in front of her so she would.”

Sansa could understand their reasoning, really she could, but they could not go unpunished.

“Starting from now you are all grounded, Arya and Bran for carrying out the deed, Rickon for not telling us that you were sneaking out at night. Arya and Bran will write an apology letter, in your best handwriting, and give it to Cersei Lannister for trespassing on her property. If I deem it acceptable then your grounding will be lifted, otherwise you will write them again and again until they are.” Sansa decreed looking Bran and Arya in the eye in turn.

They immediately turned to Jon and Robb in the hope that they would lighten the punishment Sansa had set, but Sansa was pleased to see that they shook their heads. They had already determined in advance that if one of them laid down a punishment then the others would not undermine it, but this was the first time they had needed to put that in action.

* * *

“Sansa?”

Sansa turned off her sewing machine and looked up to meet Jon’s gaze.

“Yes Jon?”

He shuffled in place and moved to sit on the edge of her bed with a slightly nervous expression on his face.

“You know about romance and feelings and stuff, right? Well, I, I…”

He trailed off but Sansa could guess of what he had to say.

“You have stronger feelings than you thought you did for the man you’ve been seeing?” She couldn’t help herself rolling her eyes slightly, “It’s obvious Jon that you have more than a crush on him, gods you’re worse than Theon is around Robb sometimes!”

His expression took on a tinge of insult at her words as did his voice, “Am I really that obvious? I only realised the other day!”

She truly couldn’t help the pitying tint to her voice, “Yes Jon, you really were that obvious.” Her face and tone grew more serious though, “But you need to be careful, just because you have feelings for him, doesn’t mean they are returned as intensely.”

“When have I not been careful?” Jon asked.

Sansa grinned. Her time had come.

She pulled out a notebook from her desk and slammed it down.

“I have a list. It’s alphabetised.”

Jon gaped at her and picked up the notebook to start flicking through it.

“Ok so maybe that time Ygritte convinced me to let her shoot an arrow off my head wasn’t a good idea, and maybe letting Theon goad me into jumping off the roof was a terrible decision, but I can’t remember half of these!” Jon complained.

Sansa levelled him with an incredulous look, “Of course you can’t remember most of them, you were drunk for a lot of them. And one or two were long enough ago that I would be surprised if you did remember them in truth.”

He stopped on a page and looked up at her, “You recorded stuff from when I was seven? You were only five? How in Westeros did you remember that?”

“Because I started writing these down when I was five, I realised a few years ago that my diaries were more full of yours and Robb’s antics than what I did, so figured I might as well catalogue them properly in case I needed them to prove a point.”

“You do realise that isn’t normal right?” Jon questioned, “Like normal people do not keep books full of their siblings embarrassing moments.”

“Margaery does.” Sansa answered simply, “Anyway, tell me more of your boy troubles and I’ll see what I can do to help.”


	10. In which Robb finally gets a clue

It was just sad really, Robb reflected, that Theon was so into someone yet he wouldn’t just tell them that he was. He was going to get Theon to admit his feelings to the object of his affections, Robb determined, what better time would there be to do so than Maiden’s day? Especially since it would just be he and Theon, seeing as they were watching over Rickon, Bran and Arya while Jon was out on a date and Sansa was out with her friends to celebrate the holiday, and they would not be disturbed once Rickon was in bed.

They had ordered a pizza and put a bad sci-fi movie on, it was their tradition whenever it was just them and they had a competition to see who could find the worst movie. Currently Theon was winning but Robb thought his choice might have a chance this time.

He waited until the inexplicably bikini clad girl had been eaten by the shark before he made his move.

“So who is it that you like?” He questioned subtly.

Theon suddenly gained a profound interest in the cheesy gore on the screen and above the screams of the heroine on screen mumbled “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter, they don’t like me like that.”

“But why won’t you just tell me who you like? That way I can help you and you can stop moping.” Robb pointed out reasonably.

“Oh for fucks sake Stark.” Theon growled.

He surged forwards and raised his hands and for a moment Robb thought he was going to hit him.

Instead lips pressed against his and hands cradled his face and- oh.

He was an idiot.

He stood there, lost in thoughts of his own idiocy when suddenly the soft pressure against his lips left.

“Oh, Drowned God, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” Theon started to babble, obviously overthinking what he had just done.

There were a few methods Robb could have used to stop his babbling, and he went for the one that would best convey the way he thought about Theon.

Robb pressed his own mouth against Theon’s, crashing their lips together in a move that was almost violent compared to the gentle, hesitant kiss Theon had given him.

Their lips moved against one another, the kiss deepening as they relaxed into it and it felt- it felt right, in a way that Robb wouldn’t fully articulate even in his own head. When they eventually separated they did not move far from each other.

“You’re an idiot Stark.” Theon breathed, resting his forehead against Robb’s.

“I would like to disagree with you, but it seems like I really can’t.” Robb grinned, he twisted his head and pressed another kiss against Theon’s mouth, hardly believing that he could.

They traded lazy kisses for a few moments more, unhurried and unconcerned for they had nowhere to be for at least an hour.

“You know, you’re a much better kisser than Jon said.” Robb said thoughtfully when they finally pulled apart.

Theon blanched, “H-how do you know about that?”

Robb started to laugh, “Theon, all of us know. Jon came in and announced to the whole house that you two had made out in the bathroom of a club. He was so drunk he didn’t realise he was shouting instead of thinking. It’s why dad couldn’t look you in the eye for like a month afterwards.”

He wouldn’t tell Theon that they all knew that the bathroom incident had gone further than making out, he wasn’t that cruel, and honestly, he did not want to think about his brother and Theon together.

Not when they could spend their time together in much more productive ways.

* * *

Robb was suspicious. His siblings had been far too quiet about his and Theon’s new relationship, there had been far too little teasing and mockery from them all.

The house was dark when he got in, and he tugged on Theon’s hand with a grin, his siblings must all have been out and that meant he and Theon could have some private time.

Admittedly the were taking thins rather slowly, and private time would just mean cuddling and making out on the sofa with yet another terrible movie on. But it would still be a nice way to spend the afternoon.

He flicked the lights to the living room on and was not ashamed to jump when all his siblings yelled “Surprise!” as he did so.

There were balloons on the floor and a few streamers hung from the walls, they had obviously raided the drawer where their dad had kept birthday party supplies because the balloons all had various ages written on them and none of them matched. It was likely that Bran and Arya had been the ones to decorate, for Robb couldn’t see her ever putting orange and green balloons next to each other.

A cake lay in the centre of the table, decorated with piped octopi and paw prints, with a message across its centre reading ‘Congrats for getting a clue!’ and Robb couldn’t resist a snort at the sight of it.

The cake was an impressive display of Sansa’s abilities, and Robb was quite impressed how much effort she had put into it just to mock him. He wasn’t surprised by it at all, just impressed for it must have taken quite some time.

They had all put in quite a bit of effort to mock him, and he was actually rather touched by it. They would not expand so much energy if they did not really care.

“You guys are arseholes.” He informed them all fondly, with a grin on his face.

Sansa moved forwards and hugged him, “Don’t swear in front of Rickon. And well done for finally seeing what was right in front of your face.”

Robb hugged her back, “Hush you, at least I have a boyfriend.”

She moved away to greet Theon with a strange smile on her face but before Robb could think too much about it, he was being slapped on the back by Jon.

“It only took you three years, Stark.” His brother said with a mocking grin, “Couldn’t you have waited another six months? Then I’d have won the bet.”

Robb slapped him back just as hard, “Serves you right for betting on me in the first place. How did you all know about us anyway?”

Arya barged into him, “You forgot that Bran and I were home yesterday, idiot. I saw you and Theon smooching when I came down to get a drink, I’m surprised you didn’t hear me retching.”

“Why you little-”

Robb dove for her but Theon beat him to it, he flung her over his shoulder and started tickling her until she shrieked to be let down and the dogs were all jumping at him. Theon fell to the floor, pushed over by Nymeria and Shaggy, and Arya cackled as she scrambled away from him.

“Do you need a hand up?” Robb asked, crouching by his winded boyfriend.

Theon glared up at him past the dogs sat on his chest and then his arm darted out and pulled Robb down so he was sprawled over him. Robb barked out a laugh as the dogs dove away and moved so he could press a kiss to Theon’s mouth.

“Eeeew, Robb, stop kissing!” Rickon demanded, “I want cake!”

Robb pulled away and rested his forehead against Theon’s, “We’d better do as he demands, else there will be a riot.”

They both got to their feet and Theon leaned into him just enough that he could whisper into Robb’s ear.

“Why do I love your family again Stark?”

* * *

It was hard to hide the joy Robb felt at being able to hold Theon’s hand as they walked around the university campus, and from the grin on Theon’s face he felt the same way.

The knowing looks their friends (and Jon’s friends, and even the siblings of some of _Sansa’s_ friends) had sent their way had been slightly humiliating, as had the money that had exchanged hands with no subtlety whatsoever, for had Robb really been the only one oblivious to Theon’s feelings?

(As everyone would later inform him, the answer to that was a resounding yes)

It wasn’t until they were lining up to buy a coffee on their break that Robb felt the prickle on the back of his neck that usually meant someone glaring at them.

Admittedly the glare could have been from someone who Theon had insulted with his arsehole-ish ways, there was no shortage of them around the town, especially not if they had even encountered Theon while he was drunk. Drunk Theon was an arsehole of epic proportions.

They also might have been one of those people, those many, many people, who Robb had tried to hit on in the past year or so. So many of those girls had slapped him, thinking he was cheating on Theon to flirt with them.

He turned around, to try and catch a glimpse of whoever it was who was glaring at them. It was easy to spot them, the lone angry face, and one that sparked a memory at that.

Robb wracked his brain as to why the face was so familiar, and it was only when he glanced at Theon that he realised. The man glaring at them was the same one who had spiked Theon’s drink the last time they went out, and Robb’s hand automatically tightened around Theon’s.

“Is everything alright?” Theon asked quietly at the movement and Robb smiled at him.

He pressed a light kiss against Theon’s cheek, “Of course it is, just wondering if Jon is going to try and convince us to go on a double date now.”

Theon pulled a face, “That sounds delightful.” His tone said he thought it sounded anything but.

“You’re just scared because Jon’s man could probably tear you in half with one hand.” Robb teased.

Theon let out an indignant squawk and batted at Robb’s chest with his free hand.

“How dare you Stark!” His voice went low enough that Robb had to strain to hear it for his next words, “Anyway, my ginger is hotter.”

Robb didn’t tease him, but only because he was touched and because he knew he probably wasn’t supposed to hear that.

He pressed another light kiss to Theon’s cheek and put the glaring man out of his mind.

It wasn’t like ‘Ramsay’ could do anything, right?

* * *

“So Sansa, Jon and I both have boyfriends. When are you going to get one?” He teased gently, enjoying the flustered look that rose on his little sister’s face.

“Yeah Sansa, I wouldn’t have thought that Robb and I would manage to get one before you.” Jon joined in.

Bran and Arya started to laugh at how absurd the whole idea was, Sansa was the pretty and popular one, and while Robb had never been unpopular, he was notoriously unlucky in love, and as for Jon, well no one had thought he would ever actually voice his feelings.

“Yeah Sansa.” Arya grinned, “At this rate Rickon will have a girlfriend before you.”

“What are you talking about?” Rickon piped up, and for a moment Robb was thankful that his baby brother was confused about the idea of relationships but that was shattered by his next words, “Sansa has a boyfriend and her name is Margaery.”

Silence filled the room and Robb could picture a blue error screen in his mind.

Sansa? And Margaery? It did not compute.

His sweet baby sister, the girl who had dreamed of marrying a handsome prince, had a girlfriend?

A glance at Jon told Robb that he was equally baffled and he suddenly realised that they had been quiet for too long as Sansa had paled.

He quickly wrapped her up in a hug, “Hey, no, don’t worry. We’re just a bit surprised, that’s all.”

“So you’re not mad I didn’t tell you?” She asked wetly against his shoulder and Robb squeezed her even harder.

“Of course not. A little shocked maybe, but never mad.”

Sansa sniffed and stepped back with watery eyes, only to be pulled into a hug by Jon.

“We reserve the right to give Margaery the concerned brother talk though.” Jon said and Robb watched as she batted him.

“You two are awful.” She turned her nose up, the insulted expression ruined by the watery smile on her face.

“Hey,” Jon gained a speculative look, “I know Theon shot down the idea of a double date, but do you think he’d go for a triple?”


	11. In which revenge is a dish best served with baby pictures

“Oh my gods, Sansa, that’s so gross.” Robb’s disgusted tone rang across the kitchen.

Sansa looked up from her bowl to glare at her brother, she still wasn’t fully awake and he was preventing her from having her beloved caffeine.

“What’s Sansa doing?” Arya leaned in, “Are those cocoa pops? You told me we didn’t have any!”

Robb shook his head, “Those aren’t cocoa pops. Tell Arya what you’re eating Sansa, tell her why I’m disgusted.”

They wouldn’t give her any peace until she did so she looked Arya dead in the eye. “They’re rice krispies with coffee instead of milk.”

She didn’t quite see what the problem with that was, or why Robb was so disgusted. It wasn’t like he gave the same look to Jon when he dunked chicken nuggets into milkshakes.

“I don’t know if that’s gross or ingenious.” Arya said, leaning forwards even further to get a better look. “Can I try some?”

Sansa shrugged, “Sure.”

She held out her spoon with some on to her sister but before Arya could take it Robb swept in and actually lifted her away from it.

“Nope. You know the rules Arya, no coffee until you’re sixteen. Not even on cereal.”

Arya pouted at him and Sansa was impressed by Robb’s willpower against it, Jon would have folded in an instant and she herself likely would not have held out long, especially when Arya’s lip started to tremble.

“But Rooooooobb.” Arya whined, “That’s not faiiiiir.”

“What’s not fair?” Theon asked, entering the kitchen.

“Robb won’t let Arya eat my coffee pops.” Sansa answered automatically before realising who was there, “Wait, when did you get here?”

A slight redness formed on Robb’s cheeks and he took a sudden interest in the lunches waiting on the side.

Arya was the first to catch on, and she pulled a face of such disgust it rivalled the one Robb had pulled when he saw what Sansa was eating.

“Robb, that’s gross!” She whinged, “I live here, I don’t want Theon spreading his Theon-ness everywhere.”

“First off: Robb and I have been having sleepovers for years little Stark, just because we are now exchanging bodily fluids it does not mean they will stop. If anything they will increase. And second,” Theon turned to Sansa, “Coffee pops sound genius, I want some.”

Sansa shrugged and went to prepare him a bowl, for the disgusted look on her brother’s face if nothing else.

“Why am I attracted to you?” Robb asked wonderingly.

Theon shovelled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and grinned at him showing off his mouthful of half-eaten cereal, “Because I’m adorable.”

Arya flounced out the room with a huff, muttering about the idiocy of boys. Sansa just kept eating her breakfast, it wasn’t often she got a meal and a show.

* * *

“WHAT?”

The glorious sound of a confused brother echoed down the halls and Sansa let herself smirk at it. She could feel as Margaery smirked as well at the sound of Loras’ spluttering.

The two separated from their kiss and turned to face a confused looking Loras and Renly.

“Is something wrong Loras?” Sansa raised an eyebrow.

Loras gestured wildly, pointing at her and Margaery, “You… How? Kissing?”

“Oh dear,” Margaery lolled her head to look at Sansa, “It seems we might have broken my twin. I suppose its no real loss.”

It appeared that his annoyance at his sister overwrote his bafflement for Loras snapped out of his confused state to complain indignantly.

“Who broke Loras?” Brienne asked, pushing him and Renly into the room with an eyeroll.

“Margaery and Sansa were exchanging saliva.” Renly replied, “Which while shocking, probably doesn’t require quite the level of drama Loras showed.”

“You have no leg to stand on when it comes to drama Renly.” Margaery said, “Or are we forgetting who did an entire monologue this morning when they dropped their croissant?”

Renly looked away and Sansa leaned so she was resting her head on Margaery’s shoulder, “Now darling, let’s not mock them for being oblivious for the past three months or for being more oblivious than my siblings.”

“So they’ve found out then? Excellent. I need to go collect money from about ten different people including Mr Seaworth.” Brienne said with a grin, looking between the still spluttering Loras and the smug faces of Margaery and Sansa.

“Davos knew?” Renly asked, “Davos?”

“He bet you two would find out before Robb and Jon did, seeing as you see the two of them together more. He’s going to be so annoyed that you were less observant than he thought.”

Margaery spoke flippantly, but Sansa watched at her eyes analysed every aspect of the boys’ reactions.

She did the same, both of them could be hot headed at times and she would rather not have their business yelled so the whole sixth form could hear.

“But… But…” Loras looked like a goldfish, “Girls… you… lesbian?”

What Sansa did next was really rather cruel, but she couldn’t help herself, she put on a sickly sweet vice and pulled out a sheet of stickers she knew Margaery kept in her bag for this exact purpose.

“Well done Loras! That is a gold star observation!” She placed a sticker directly in the centre of his forehead and watched as his baffled expression slowly turned into a scowl.

“There’s no need to be mean.” He pouted, “Just because I thought you were into boys not my sister.”

Even Renly looked taken aback by that statement.

“Loras, darling, how did you not notice that Sansa likes girls?” Renly asked tenderly, “She mooned over Mya Stone for months. Plus she wears Dr Martins, that’s like a really common lesbian accessory.”

Loras pouted even harder and Renly moved to drape himself over his boyfriend like an octopus.

“Aww Loras,” Margaery stood and patted him on the cheek, “Don’t pout, you’ll give yourself frown lines.”

“I don’t have to stay here and be insulted like this!” He announced with a huff, “Come on Renly.”

Loras dragged his boyfriend out of the room by his hand, but Renly dragged his feet and stopped at the door.

“By the way, congratulations you two. From both of us, I’m sure Loras will tell you himself when he stops sulking.” His tone was fond and sincere.

Margaery and Sansa grinned at each other and Brienne once he had left fully.

“How much of that did you plan?” Brienne asked with something akin to accusation in her voice.

“We only planned for them to find out today.” Margaery offered, “The rest of it was all them.”

Brienne raised an eyebrow, obviously disbelieving them but she did not push it any further.

“So how much did you make from your bet Brienne?” Sansa asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Brienne grinned, “Enough that I’m quite happy to be the one to buy coffee and cake at the fancy patisserie in town after school if you’d like to join me.”

* * *

“Why is there pink hair dye all over the bath?” Jon yelled down the stairs, “Sansa!”

Sansa looked up from her book, wondering why she was the one being yelled at for the presence of hair dye when she had never once used it.

“It wasn’t me!” She yelled back, not bothering to stand from her chair.

“Well then who was it?”

A slight giggle had Sansa turning in time to see the back wheel of Bran’s chair go past the living room door towards the kitchen.

The giggle combined with the slight scent of wet dog instantly ignited all of her suspicions, her little siblings were definitely up to something. She put her book down, making sure to carefully mark her place with the embroidered bookmark that had been her mother’s, and got up to investigate.

The scent of wet dog got even stringer as she entered the kitchen and there was a pile of old towels sat by the washing machine, one of which had a pink tinge to it.

Slowly she pushed the back door open to see Arya and Bran out in the garden and as she stepped out she stopped dead.

“Oh gods, Jon is going to kill you.” Sansa exclaimed looking at the bright pink Ghost panting happily in front of her.

“Correction,” Arya said with a grin, “Jon and Robb are going to kill all of us.”

She whistled and a no longer Greywind came running from behind the bushes, his turquoise tail wagging happily.

“Oh gods.” Sansa whispered, and then a terrible thought came to her, “What colour did you dye Lady? Please tell me you didn’t dye her orange, we’d clash terribly.”

She turned to look for her precious dog but couldn’t see Lady anywhere.

Bran started to cackle and Sansa saw why when the other dogs ran past with Rickon; Greywind and Ghost were the only ones which had been dyed. There was no way either Robb nor Jon would believe she had nothing to do with it.

“You guys are evil, how did you even get the dye anyway? You didn’t use hair dye did you? Because that isn’t good for dogs.”

Arya rolled her eyes at Sansa’s questions, “Theon bought it for us. Do you really think he’d buy anything that might hurt Greywind and so make Robb cry?”

That was a fair point, Theon would never do anything that might cause Robb to cry, and not just because he was useless when tears were involved.

Sansa was now faced with a choice; did she tattle on her siblings and thus clear her name? Or did she call Margaery and ask for an alibi as a witness for her use of time while the dogs were being dyed.

It was no choice at all really, she wasn’t a snitch and Margaery was quite happy to be used as an alibi, just as Sansa herself was when Margaery need it.

She turned her back on her siblings and, with Lady at her side, went back to her book and her phone. She would call Margaery and they could discuss their plans for the next day, because they finally had all the pieces in place to make Hunt and his cronies pay.

Sansa was safely ensconced in her chair when the outraged shouts came from her brothers as they saw their dogs

* * *

“I’m not going to ask how you got hold of them, but these are the real deal right?” Sansa asked her little brother.

Bran smiled up at her with a far too innocent expression on his face, “Of course they are real, Sansa. I don’t do sloppy work, not when doughnuts are at stake.”

“And the codes are guaranteed to work? We won’t get caught for this?”

It was a real worry, she couldn’t get into trouble for this, not if she didn’t want to cause problems for Robb and Jon. Not if she didn’t want Aunt Lysa to go through with her threat of challenging their custody over her (but only her, Aunt Lysa did not want any of her other siblings).

“I promise, there’s even Joffrey’s login codes in there, so you don’t even need to do it from a computer under any of your names.”

Sansa pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “Thank you Bran, there is no way we’d have been able to do this without you.”

She was excited the entire way into school, obviously enough that Arya looked up from her phone to peer at her suspiciously, but Sansa did not care. She had been looing forward to this since she had first found out about the horrific bet about Brienne.

Renly was her assistant and lookout in the little computer room, while Loras and Margaery staged an argument in the common room that was sure to gather attention because if there was one thing that the Tyrell twins were particularly good at it was getting attention.

It was very tempting, once she was logged in as Joffrey, to cause more havoc, but they did not want to draw attention to themselves through such a thing. Instead she followed the instructions Bran had given her that allowed her to access the electronic screens that were up all around the sixth form and the school it was attached to.

She had no idea how Bran had managed to find out that information, considering he did not even go to the school, but she was ever so slightly too scared to ask.

A quick upload of the premade slides and she was out of the system and logged off before Margaery and Loras had even finished screaming at each other about using the last of the hair conditioner.

They slipped into the common room and casually moved so they were standing near Brienne, they wanted to see her reaction when their plans came to glorious fruition.

The sight of them triggered Margaery and Loras to wind down their argument, although they kept it going a few minutes more so as not to seem suspicious, eventually culminating in a tearful agreement that it must have been Garlan or Willas who was at fault.

The first of the images loaded itself on the screen behind them and it did not take long for someone to notice and point it out to the crowd and a wave of laughter spread quickly through the room.

Hunt had gone pale when he saw the image, and one by one so did his cronies as the slides continued to move until they started all over again, overriding the usual slides. A grand display of the most embarrassing baby pictures and drunken pictures that each of that group had, all with their names beside them, helpfully pointing out who they were.

It perhaps was not the most elegant revenge scheme Sansa had taken part in, but it sure was effective. There was no way that any of them would live this down for at least the rest of the year.

The best part though, was the grin on Brienne’s face as she witnessed the humiliation of her tormentors.


	12. In which Ygritte's uncle has a familair name

It was rather strange really, to wake up in a bed and a house not his own, but once he got over that Jon thought he might quite like it.

It was quite pleasant to have a morning off from dealing with his siblings, he loved them all but by the gods were they a handful. Ghost was still a pale pink colour after many baths ad it was something that Jon was not likely to forget soon, not when it meant he was followed by giggles every time he took Ghost out on a walk.

“Hi.” He said, suddenly shy as he rolled over to face Tormund.

“Hi.” Tormund smiled back, and he pressed a gentle kiss to Jon’s nose.

Jon scrunched his face up and scooted back slightly, “Eww, morning breath.”

Tormund chuckled at him, “Sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Little Crow.”

The nickname had stuck, and Jon was reading the day his siblings got wind of it, for he knew it was too great an opportunity for them to pass up. He certainly wouldn’t have if the nickname had belonged to any of them, he still mocked Robb for being called ‘The Young Wolf’ by the school rugby team after all.

The alarm had not yet gone off, meaning that if they were quick they could- The thought was cut off by the tell tale whine of a newly awoken child.

They paused for a moment, but a call for Tormund came from one of the girls.

“I’d better go get them ready.” He said blearily, stretching enough to crack his back as he got out of bed, “Next time we don’t do this on a school night and I’ll try and find someone who will watch them for us.”

Jon smiled up at him, savouring the last heat of the blankets before he too got up, “Do you mind if I have a shower?”

“Go for it. There should be some clean towels on the side.”

He slipped into the small en suite once Tormund had left the room and showered quickly, he did not know if Tormund’s morning routine was as tight as his and his siblings usually was and did not want to hinder it in any way.

By the time he was done and had made his way down to the kitchen both of Tormund’s girls were dressed and happily eating their breakfast under Tormund’s watchful eye.

“Can you keep an eye on them for a few minutes?” Tormund asked Jon with a soft kiss, “Just while I get ready. They shouldn’t cause you any problems.”

Jon could not refuse such a request, not that he would have done anyway.

Munda looked up at him suspiciously but soon turned her attention back to her breakfast, eating it with the same singlemindedness that Arya had displayed at the same age; Torva on the other hand seemed to have Rickon’s approach to eating. That is, as soon as there was a distraction she stopped and glared at him as though she was daring him to try and get her to start eating again.

It was a dare that Jon felt confident he could take. He highly doubted anyone could be more stubborn than Rickon.

He approached the toddler like you would approach a mother cow with her calf; slowly, carefully and fully prepared to retreat to safety if something went wrong. Some might call it an overreaction, but recently Munda had taught Rickon how to bite and Jon had reason to expect that Munda’s sister had the same knowledge.

What he did not expect, however, was the reaction Torva had to his suggestion that she eat a little more. The tiny girl let out a war cry that would not have been out of place on the battlefield a thousand years before and hurled her bowl of porridge directly at Jon’s chest.

Had it been a battlefield, and had Torva’s weapon of choice been a spear rather than oats, Jon would have died from his heart being pierced directly , as it was he merely had warm porridge seeping through the weave of his jumper, creating a mess that would need to go in the washing machine to disappear.

It appeared Jon had been wrong. Torva was more stubborn than Rickon.

A chuckle had Jon turning to face his boyfriend, and as he did so a blob of porridge fell from his jumper to land on the floor with a sad splat. For a moment the pair of them just stared at the splodge of porridge on the tiled floor until Tormund broke the silence and drew Jon’s attention back to him.

“Do you want to borrow a jacket for today? You can give it back later, I wouldn’t make you go out without one, nor with your currently porridge encrusted one.” Tormund offered with affection evident on his features.

Jon smiled back, “Please. If my brother catches me around Uni without a jumper he’ll smother me like I’m Rickon.”

It had happened before and Ygritte still mocked him about it.

He ran his gaze around the kitchen as he moved to put the dishes in the dishwasher. It was obvious two small girls lived there, the brightly coloured hair bobbles on every surface were an indicator of that if nothing else, and the room was homey with its green walls covered in family photos.

A face in the largest photo on the wall caught his eye, a familiar face. The face of one of his best friends.

“Hey Tormund?” He called, “You don’t happen to have a niece called Ygritte now, do you?”

* * *

“That hoodie is not yours.” Gilly said to him reprovingly, “And I think it’s more colour than I’ve seen you wear well, ever.”

Jon grinned at her as he snuggled into the giant dark green hoodie, loving the way the sleeves curled over his hands.

“Nice hoodie.” Ygritte said, sitting next to him. Her eyes suddenly narrowed and she moved closer to squint at it suspiciously. “Wait. Why the fuck are you wearing my uncle’s hoodie? His favourite hoodie no less.”

He could not resist the urge to smirk at her and enjoy the dawning look of horror on her face.

“Why do you think I have someone else’s hoodie on Ygritte? What possible explanation could there be for that?”

Her eye started to twitch “Did you fuck my fucking uncle?”

“Depends, what’s you uncle’s name?”

“Tormund.”

“Then yes, I fucked your uncle… or rather he fucked me. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t realise he was your uncle until just now.”

A strawberry was less red than the shade Ygritte’s face turned, and her eyebrow started to twitch threateningly.

“Run for your pretty little life, Jon.” She growled, and one look at her face told Jon that it would be smart to make a tactical retreat.

He shot to his feet and looked for a safe haven, a safe haven which emerged from the library with a head of black ringlets and a jumper that Jon was pretty sure had belonged to him at some point.

“Satin! Save me!” Jon ducked behind his friend in an attempt to escape Ygritte’s claws.

Satin smiled at the sight that was him attempting to evade Ygritte, and his voice was filled with fond amusement.

“What have you done this time Stark? Did you mention the Thenns again?”

The mention of her cousins made Ygritte growl once more and she stopped trying to grab at Jon in favour of scowling at Satin.

“No. That traitor, that little shit has betrayed me.”

“Oh?” The single eyebrow raised to accompany the exclamation and Jon could feel the judgement that was soon to be aimed his way.

“Jonny-boy there is sleeping with my uncle. My uncle who has two children!” Ygritte fumed.

Jon was no longer quite sure which of them Ygritte was angry at, or whether she was actually angry at all.

“You do know I’m not just sleeping with his right?” He ventured, still hiding behind Satin, “Tormund is the man I’ve been dating for a while.”

Satin stepped to the side so he was no longer acting as a shield, ad placed a hand on both of their shoulders to guide them back to the bench Gilly was still sat on. Jon did admire Gilly’s non interference policy when it came to their antics, although he was pretty sure it came from dealing with her actual toddlers at home.

“Come on, you two. We are going to use our words and talk this out like adults.”

The problem, Jon decided, with having friends who were a couple of years older than he was, was that on occasion they liked to act as though the age gap was much larger than it actually was. This appeared to be one of those occasions.

“Now, Jon. Did you know that Tormund was Ygritte’s uncle before you started dating him?” Satin asked in the teacher voice he had developed as a result of his course.

Jon shook his head emphatically, “No, I only found out this morning when I saw a family picture. We never put it together that my friend Ygritte and his niece Ygritte were the same person.”

“You really know nothing, sometimes.” Ygritte huffed, “And I’m not fucking calling you ‘uncle’.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jon promised solemnly, “But on the bright side, you know have another ally against the Thenns.”

Ygritte laughed at that, and Jon could see the pleased glances Satin and Gilly exchanged over the mature way they were dealing with the issue. Pleased lances that quickly turned exasperated with Ygritte’s next words.

“You join us on any family paintball trips though and I will shoot you right on your pretty pink pecker.”

* * *

The house was far too quiet when Jon exited his room, especially since his youngest siblings were still grounded. Normally their grounding lasted until they either met the conditions or until he and Robb got so annoyed with them being underfoot that they lifted it.

Considering that they were grounded not only for dyeing Greywind and Ghost ridiculous colours, but also for the incident with the Lannisters, their grounding would not be lifted by them being irritating this time.

He was not surprised therefore, when he was set upon by the three youngest when he reached the bottom of the stairs. He could hear the TV on in the living room, the sounds of a period drama that Sansa loved and Robb pretended not to love filtering through into the hallway. It was a perfect ambush, for the other too would be far too distracted by their show to come to his aid.

“Jon can we have sweets?” Arya and Bran chorused, the former holding up Rickon who was doing his best big eyes.

“What did Sansa say?” He asked, suspicious of his siblings.

“She said we couldn’t because of the ‘Joffrey incident’” Bran whined, trying to make himself look even more pathetic.

“Then why would I let you have sweets?”

This time Arya spoke up with a crafty look on her face, “Cause Sansa isn’t the boss of you.”

So that was the route they were trying to go down, honestly the one thing that was surprising was the fact they had come to him instead of Robb... wait.

“Why haven’t you horrible lot gone to Robb instead? You all know he’s the pushover.”

“S’nsa tol him to say no.” Rickon pouted, “We asked Robb to stawt but S’nsa was there so bye bye sweeties.”

And now it was Rickon’s turn to try and convince him, he normally had an almost impeccable vocabulary unless he wanted something, then his speech turned into the type of voice used by toddlers in the media. All of his siblings were manipulative little shits.

Jon sighed, “If I give you a sweet each will you promise to not tell Sansa or Robb?”

He knew he was a pushover, but he wanted to see the person (other than Sansa or Catelyn) who could withstand the force of these three at their most manipulative.

They cheered and promised not to let their brother or sister know, Jon still held out a smidgeon of hope that they would keep that promise. He reached up to get the jar from the very top shelf, its position assured for as long as Arya’s growth spurt remained elusive.

The code entered into the padlock holding it closed (this time a failsafe against Theon) and the jar opened, revealing what should have been a stash of everyone’s favourite sweets. Disappointment awaited however as all that resided was a piece of paper, sat forlornly at the bottom.

_‘Nice try Arya, Bran and Rickon, but I said no. Not until you’ve apologised to everyone affected by the Bird Poo Incident, and yes Arya, that includes Cersei. Love Sansa xoxo’_

The four Starks stared at the note in horror.

“You know, I really do think Sansa is going to take over the world someday.” Arya said thoughtfully. The others could do nothing but agree with her.


	13. In which Robb is a little hypocritical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is actually going to have two or three parts, that is the same events told from Robb, Sansa, and Jon's point of view, first up: Robb's part.

“Ok so I need you all to swear-” Robb started, already anticipating the response form the rest of his siblings.

“Fuck!” Sansa, Arya and Jon chorused with huge grins.

Robb sighed, “Swear as in promise that you will not cause a scene tonight. Uncle Benjen might actually kill me if you do.”

He wasn’t overly worried about Sansa causing a scene, unless Joffrey was there of course, but if any Targaryens were there then Jon was almost guaranteed to cause one.

Not that Robb blamed him of course, he himself had caused a scene or two back when Rhaegar was living nearby.

He paused for a moment and looked at Arya in sudden confusion, “Actually Arya, why are you even here? Brienne is watching you guys tonight.”

Arya shrugged, “I thought you might be yelling at Jon or Sansa, and I wanted to laugh at them.”

Robb raised an eyebrow, “And what have they done that requires me yelling at them.”

Arya shrugged once more, “That’s what I wanted to find out. It’s no use having blackmail material if it’s already been revealed.”

Well that was a concerning statement, one that made Robb wonder what exactly she had on him, although he did not have the time to discuss it.

“Ok.” He said slowly, “Anyway, I still need you to swear you will not cause a scene. I’m not joking when I say that Uncle Benjen might actually kill us if something goes wrong. Apparently some parts of the company are still reeling over mum and dad’s deaths. He wants the ‘future of Winterfell’ to reassure them.”

He was proud of himself for his voice not cracking when he spoke of their parents, proud that he did not voice the stabbing pain that filled him whenever he thought of them. The surety that he felt they would be disappointed in the way he and Jon were caring for the others for surely Bran and Arya would not have caused so much trouble for their parents.

He knew Jon felt the same way, and Theon knew that he felt like that. Theon had been the recipient of more than a few anxious phone calls over his parenting abilities; and had calmed and reassured him through each one.

“I promise.” Sansa said softly, and Jon echoed her.

Robb let out a sigh of relief at their promises. Besides, no matter what happened it would not be as bad as the time their father punched Rhaegar Targaryen; it couldn’t be.

* * *

If Robb had not seen Sansa make the dress she was wearing, he would not have believed it was not purchased from an upscale boutique. He knew the embroidery alone had taken her days to do, the delicate vines and buds danced around the neckline and hem, with the curved almost giving the impression of wolves.

Her dress was in shades of silver and white, matching the ties that he and Jon wore with their suits; although her lemon-yellow daps did not really fit with the rest of her aesthetic.

“I’m designated driver.” Sansa said once she noticed his raised eyebrow at her attire, “Seeing as I can now, and Uncle Benjen always looks disappointed if I drink more than half a glance of champagne at one of these events. And heels are just so impractical to wear while driving, so I’ll chance when we’re there.”

Robb nodded, that did make sense, and if Sansa was driving that meant he and Jon did not need to have their usual argument about whose turn it was.

“Theon is going to come with us, he’s chosen not to travel in with his sister. Is Margaery going to join us?”

Sansa shook her head, “Her family is going to be there anyway and you know how big the Tyrell’s are on appearances. They’re all arriving together.”

Well that made sense, the only other people as big on appearances as the Tyrells was the Lannisters and Targaryens, and Robb did have to admit that the presence of Margaery and her brothers made him relax a little, for they hated Joffrey as much as he, Jon and Sansa did.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts of all the ways the evening could go wrong. As did the excited squeal Arya let out as she opened it.

“Brienne!”

Brienne was easily Arya’s favourite babysitter as she would happily sit and watch all the gory movies Arya wanted.

She led her through to the living room and Robb stood to greet her.

“Thanks again for doing this Brienne.”

She smiled and pulled off her coat, “It’s really no trouble, besides, between the hazard pay for these three terrors and tutoring Podrick, my car is all but paid for.”

Sansa grinned, “And this way you get to hear all the ways Loras manages to embarrass himself very quickly.”

Brienne smirked back, “That is a bonus, yes.”

“Rickon’s all tucked in, he should be asleep soon enough. If he gets up give him some milk and tuck him back in; but I doubt he will give you any trouble. we took the dogs for a very long run around the park earlier to tire him out for you.” Jon said, entering the room.

Brienne nodded, “And I assume it’s the normal bedtimes for the other two?”

Robb glanced at Arya who was near vibrating in place with excitement at the chance to watch films with Brienne, “The usual bedtime for Bran applies, yes, but as long as Arya is in bed before midnight I don’t see why she can’t stay up a little later.”

Arya whooped and punched the air, and all four of them quickly shushed her, for no one wanted Rickon to wake up before they left.

“If there are any problems, just give us a ring Brienne. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the cupboards or fridge, and I made some of those biscuits you like earlier as well, so please eat some of them!” Sansa wrapped Brienne up in a hug as she spoke, “We had better be off though, else Theon will complain about being kept waiting.”

Robb grimaced at that thought, only of Theon’s many skills was the ability to complain.

* * *

The room that had been hired for the annual gala was beautifully decorated, as it always was. Silver and white were the theme, as they had been since its inception, a throwback to the days when their family had its own colours.

Uncle Benjen was greeting people as they arrived, and gladly pulled all of them, including Theon, into a hug.

“How long is it until I can pass this job over to you?” He muttered into Robb’s ear; a pleasant smile pasted on his face.

“At least a year and a half.” Robb muttered back, “Four years for Sansa.”

“I’m counting the days.”

No hint of their conversation showed on Benjen’s face as they separated, no hint of how much he hated the role that had once belonged to his brother.

“Is there anyone you want us to speak to in particular?” Robb asked, aware that at least one person would need schmoozing.

“If one of you could speak to Randyll Tarly then that would be a help, we need him to react favourably to a deal we’re proposing later this month. And of course, if anyone is feeling brave enough to face the Lannisters that would be a help as well.”

Robb turned to Sansa and raised an eyebrow, asking if she would be willing to face down the Lannisters as she was the one they hated the least.

Sansa rolled her eyes but nodded, “I’ll brave the lions’ den for you, are we trying to build general good will or is there an angle?”

“General good will at the moment.” Benjen said, “Its something we lack quite a lot of the time.”

Sansa nodded once more, “Of course, I expect a rescue though if something goes wrong. I’m not doing this alone.”

“Would we abandon you to the claws of the Lannisters, Sweet Sister?” Robb grinned, his words echoed by Jon.

“Yes. Yes you would.” Sansa tossed her hair over her shoulder, “Because the pair of you are terrified of Cersei.”

Robb thought that was a little unfair, it wasn’t that he was terrified of Cersei Lannister, he just preferred to deal with her as little as possible.

“Also, the pair of you owe me big time.” Sansa continued, “I want a month free from morning Rickon duty and the sewing machine attachment I’ve been eying in recompense.”

Robb and Jon exchanged glances while Benjen and Theon looked on in amusement.

“Done.” Jon said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

Sansa shook it with a sweet smile, “Pleasure doing business with you both. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I spy Margaery.”

She swanned off across the room, head held high and for a moment looking very much like their mother.

“She’s going to milk this for a while, you know.” Theon said, curling his fingers through Robb’s.

“I know. Its still better than dealing with the Lannisters though.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Theon’s mouth, “Shall we go see if we can find your sister, I know you like to annoy her.”

“So you are just going to abandon me here then?” Jon asked, in a fond tone.

“Yep!” Robb turned to grin at him as he started to walk away, “I know you have friends here, go annoy them instead.”

His grin only widened as his brother made a rude hand gesture towards him, it was far too easy to torment Jon sometimes.

They did the rounds of the room, occasionally stopping to sip at glasses of wine being offered by numerous servers. They did not manage to find Asha, likely she had decided not to turn up as she knew Theon and Euron were both going to be there. As for Euron, they avoided him as much as they could, which was not difficult seeing as he seemed to be near the Lannisters for the most part.

“Dr Baratheon, Mr Seaworth, how nice it is to see you outside of trouble caused by my siblings.”

“Stark.” Baratheon nodded his head, but there was the hint of a smile on his stern visage that told Robb he was not as grumpy as he outwardly appeared to be.

Not that Bran or Arya would ever believe him if he told them that Stannis Baratheon had a sense of humour.

“Robb, and Theon too of course, it’s good to see you both.” Davos smiled at them, “How are you?”

“We’re good.” Robb nodded, “How are you doing? How’s Shireen?”

Davos’ smile turned into a grin, “Well the pair of you won me money from Renly so I am excellent, thank you very much. Shireen is at her mother’s this week, but she is well.”

“You were betting on us?” Theon said, sounding rather scandalised at the thought of his old head teacher doing something like that.

“I believe that is something you should ask Sansa about.” Davos said, his grin looking ever so slightly sheepish.

Dr Baratheon shot his husband the most glorious side eye that Robb had ever seen, and Robb could suddenly understand why his father had been such good friends with both of them.

“I’ll make sure to do that.” Robb squeezed Theon’s hand as something occurred to him, “Actually I was wondering if I could ask you a favour? Only Arya would quite like to have some of her friends around for a sleepover in a couple of weeks, including Shireen of course, but she would like to invite Myrcella as well and well…”

“Cersei hates your entire family?” Dr Baratheon said dryly, “I’m sure Davos and I can annoy her into agreeing with it, if need be we can always set Robert onto it.”

That was exactly what he had hoped they would say, and he said as much and thanked them both profusely. Myrcella was something of a calming force on Arya’s group of friends, and it would make everything a lot easier if she was able to attend the sleepover Arya was sure to host once her grounding was over; not least because it would save Arya from moping for a few days.

The opening bars of music registered in Robb’s mind just as they said their good byes, and he smiled and turned to his boyfriend.

“Can I have this dance?” Robb held out his hand to Theon, who took it with a roll of his eyes.

“You big sap, how long exactly have you been planning this?” He asked as the band started to play a song that Robb knew Theon loved, even if he refused to admit it.

“I may or may not have made a few suggestions to Uncle Benjen as to the playlist for this event.” Robb admitted as he pulled Theon into position for the dance.

Theon’s eyes softened as they twirled around the floor, and Robb made a note of everyone who looked less than pleased to see them together. That was something that needed watching, because if they couldn’t accept him, then it was unlikely they would accept Jon or Sansa.

One person in particular kept watching them, something covetous in his gaze, and something familiar about his face. His gaze made something cold drip down Robb’s spine, and he quickly spun Theon so they were out of his direct line of sight.

Theon’s grinned widened as they spun, “Careful Stark, else I might just be sick on your shiny shoes.”

Robb grinned back, “It wouldn’t be the first time, now, would it?”

Theon threw his head back and laughed, a laugh that blended into the beat of the music until the song stopped and the dancing stopped as well.

“I’m going to run to the loos.” Theon said softly, “Try not to cause any fights before I get back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Its you and Jon who start all the fights, not me.”

He pretended not to hear the laughter that erupted from Theon at that statement, really they were all as bad as each other, only Robb was better at talking his way out of trouble than anyone else.

When Theon had not returned after a while, Robb went to look for him. There was the chance of course, that the queue was merely long, but equally he might have been trapped in conversation with a family member, which was something Robb knew he was keen to avoid.

Robb’s blood went cold when he saw Theon. When he saw how he was pressed up against the wall, his wrists held above his head, and his eyes darting from side to side as someone attacked his lips.

Not for one moment did Robb think that the ‘kiss’ was anything less than an attack, he knew that Theon would not cheat, that he would not ask for another’s attentions. He also knew what Theon looked like when he was actually enjoying himself, and the way he looked as he was attacked was as far from that as possible.

“What is going on?” He called out, not really needing the explanation but instead hoping the scandal in his tone would cause the other to let Theon go.

The man stepped back from Theon and looked at Robb with a smug smirk, one that Robb recognised. He knew the man, knew him for seeing him around the university campus, as well as on a more unsavoury occasion.

It was the ‘Ramsay’ who had spiked Theon’s drink the last time they had visited The Golden Lion.

Robb swept his eyes over Theon’s face, noting the blood on his lip and the swollen redness on his cheek that was sure to bruise. He quirked his lip in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and felt relief as Theon seemed to calm ever so slightly at the sight.

Or at least, he had calmed a little until Ramsay took his wrists in a punishing grip once more.

“So good to see you again, Stark.” The man spat, the smug smile never leaving his features.

He was familiar beyond the more recent events, and with some horror Robb realised that he was Ramsay Bolton, son of one of the men that his father had genuinely hated. They had played together once or twice as children, an attempt to foster goodwill between them all, but that had stopped when the rumours of what Bolton did to animals started.

And now the same person who had been rumoured to skin cats had his hands on Theon.

“Bolton.” Robb nodded, his voice coldly polite, “Just what do you think you are doing to my boyfriend?”

Ramsay licked his lips and all but crooned, “The little slut threw himself at me, and who am I to refuse such a pretty face?”

The blood on Theon’s lip, the fear on his face and the smug grin on Ramsay’s told Robb everything he needed to know about what had just happened and the truth of Ramsay’s words. Red tinged his vision at the thought of someone hurting Theon, and his words to his siblings not to cause a scene swirled around his head.

He ignored them.

The crunch of Ramsay Bolton’s nose beneath his fist was far too satisfying.


	14. In which (surprise surprise) Sansa is the most sensible sibling

It was with some regret that Sansa traded her daps for heels when they arrived at the party. As much as she adored the silhouette created by heels, and the way that they matched her dress, they just were nowhere near as comfortable as her trainers. It seemed like the whole evening was going to be filled by a number of uncomfortable things however, as her brothers had decided that she would be the one to talk to the Lannisters.

Sansa decided it would be best to find Margaery first, so that she had a little support while facing Cersei and the rest of her family.

It was easy to find Margaery and the rest of the Tyrells, they almost always wore green and stayed as a large group.

“Sansa!” Margaery swept over to her, hardly appearing to wear heels at all with how easily she moved in them, “You look stunning, petal. That dress really suits you.”

A flush made its was onto Sansa’s cheeks at the compliment and she not too subtly looked Margaery over.

“You look gorgeous as well, well more than normal anyway.”

It was true, Margaery’s dress made her look like a flower, with overlapping petalled skirts of green edged in gold.

Margaery slid her hand into Sansa’s and smiled at Olenna, “We’re going to make the rounds, Granny. I’ll see you later.”

She pulled Sansa away with an unhurried urgency, and a smirk crossed Sansa’s lips as she realised what that meant.

“Was your grandmother berating Loras for his preference for sports over academics again?”

Margaery groaned, “Yes, she brings it up at random moments to try and catch him off guard. It’s painful to witness.”

Sansa grimaced and pressed a soft kiss to Margaery’s cheek, “I am sorry for you about that. Unfortunately I must ask you to aid me in dealing with some unpleasantness, my brave brothers have decided that I should be the one to face the Lannisters this evening.”

“Cersei still has no proof that it was me who put laxatives and diuretics in Joffrey’s food does she?” Margaery questioned.

Sansa shook her head, “She suspects of course, but has no proof.”

“Well then,” Margaery laughed, “It will be fun to cross blades with her again.”

Sansa wanted her to reassure her that the blades would not be literal, but she did not get the chance for all of a sudden, the crimson and bright gold that signified the Lannisters. They never were particularly subtle.

She did not bother to hide her relief at the lack of Joffrey, nor the relief she felt when both of Cersei’s brothers made their excuses as they approached.

“Little dove, what a pleasure it is to see you,” Cersei smiled, but her eyes were cold as ever, “And Margaery too of course.”

Margaery’s hand tightened in Sansa’s, a gesture of comfort that Sansa eagerly accepted.

“And you as well Cersei.” Margaery’s voice was poisoned sweetness, “Divorce has suited you.”

Anger flashed across Cersei’s delicate features at the reminder of that scandal, of the humiliation of the press airing all hers and Robert Baratheon’s dirty laundry for the world to see, and Sansa felt she had to step in to prevent any actual blood being spilt on the floors.

“How is Tommen doing at the moment? Bran mentioned something about him having kittens?” A risk to mention her brother perhaps, but Cersei could talk about her children for hours.

“Yes, he does. Dreadful creatures really, a gift from his uncle.” Cersei lifted her shoulders into an elegant shrug, “But he does love them so.”

There was a pause as they digested that information, Sansa would have thought Cersei would like cats for they were as elegant and temperamental as she was. Or perhaps the resemblances just hit too close to home.

Of course, it was equally as likely that she just disliked them because they caused mess and destruction in her otherwise pristine home.

“Joff was telling me that you were still hoping to study politics Margaery, I would have thought that was a little… advanced for you.”

Margaery simpered at her, and it was Sansa’s turn to squeeze her hand, although it was more a warning than to offer comfort.

“Well I just looked at your family and thought that if they could make it in, anyone could really. Besides I want to make a change in the world, rather than throw us back to the dark ages.”

Sansa had to work to stifle her laugh at that, and her love for Margaery increased even further for it was not just anyone who could make Cersei Lannister speechless.

“And what about you, little dove?” Cersei deliberately turned away from Margaery, “What are you planning on doing?”

“I’m going to study Art History; I want to focus on textiles as a medium for propaganda. Then I will be working at Winterfell with my brothers.”

Cersei smiled, “How very quaint of you.”

Sansa had very little desire to be insulted any further so she did not retort and merely said her goodbyes to Cersei. She shook her head when Margaery could not resist a parting shot, but did not blame her at all.

They walked away as quickly as they could until they were far enough away there was no danger of Cersei trying to lure them bac into conversation.

“Oh bugger,” Margaery looked at her phone, “Loras needs me to rescue him so I am going to have to abandon you for a few minutes petal.”

Sansa placed a comforting hand on her arm, “Of course, go and rescue your twin from whatever shenanigans he has got into this time. And possibly get some blackmail at the same time?”

Her girlfriend laughed delicately and pressed a gentle kiss to Sansa’s cheek, “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Margaery had been gone for less than a minute when a new voice spoke up, a horribly familiar one which Sansa knew she could not just pretend she had not heard.

“My, is that little Sansa Stark? Last time I saw you, you were a child hanging onto your mother’s hand, how you’ve grown since then.”

“Mr Bolton.” Sansa smiled tightly, “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Roose Bolton smiled thinly at her, “I had hoped I would see you or your brothers here, Miss Stark, there is much I would like to speak to you about. It is a shame, however that your brothers have chosen to disgrace your family so.”

His words confused Sansa, in what way had Robb or Jon disgraced themselves for there had been no commotions or disasters yet attributed to their names. And then he titled his head slightly and nodded at the dance floor.

Sansa turned her head slightly and anger filled her veins as the truth of what he was insinuating took hold. Robb was dancing with Theon, swaying to the music with him and laughing over something, they looked so happy that for it to be titled a disgrace made any small feeling of goodwill she might have had evaporate.

“It depends on your definition of a disgrace, I suppose.” Sansa said as pleasantly as she could, “Yours is two people happily in love, mine happens to be covering up the torture of animals.”

Bolton blanched and his eyes widened, as though he had not realised that she knew about the scandal involving his son.

“Yes. Well.” Bolton muttered, “Ramsay has changed, we sent him to therapy and he’s calmed down. He feels true remorse for those actions.”

“I’m sure he does.” Sansa concentrated on the happiness on her brother’s face to prevent the disgust she felt from showing.

Bolton smiled at her then, an almost fatherly smile that put her on edge, “He does struggle though, with women. Ramsay is a little shy, you see, and something about that stops women from talking to him.”

Sansa suddenly realised where this conversation was going and bile filled her throat.

“I would appreciate it greatly, for the friendship between our families, if perhaps you would talk to him?” Bolton shot her a look filled with such manipulative hope that Sansa felt a spot of guilt for the disgust and horror she felt at the whole idea.

“I would,” She said in a sickly-sweet tone to hide her true feelings, “But my brothers are so protective, I fear they would not take kindly to it at all.”

It was a lie of course; her brothers might have been protective but they would not interfere if she chose to talk to someone. They did not try to have a claim on her like Joffrey did to Myrcella or Viserys did to Daenerys.

Roose Bolton blanched, perhaps remembering the punch he had received from her father a few years previously. It had been a beautiful punch for all those who had seen it, had happened only after Bolton had tried to kiss her mother when he was not too drunk for it to have been a viable excuse.

“Of course, they must be protective of you. I would be more shocked if they were not, considering how beautiful you are. Any man would be lucky to have you join their family.”

“It’s so kind of you to say so.” Sansa simpered, “I do apologise though, my girlfriend is gesturing for me to join her, I did promise her a dance after all, and you find people like me disgraceful.”

She swanned away from Bolton, desperately trying to contain the laughter that wanted to erupt at the insulted look on his face.

Sana was intercepted however, on her way to Margaery, by a very harried looking Uncle Benjen.

“You need to come with me sweetling.” He said in a low voice, “Your brother needs someone to knock some sense into him.”

“Which one?”

Uncle Benjen sighed, “Robb. He decided that punching Ramsay Bolton would be a good idea. Bolton punched back.”

Sansa picked up her skirts and hurried to Robb’s side, she did not talk to him, merely rolled her eyes and prodded at his red cheek.

“You need ice on that.” She muttered and left him sprawled on the floor to wrap some ice from the refreshments table in her scarf.

Once done she returned to his side and sent away a number of the gawkers and onlookers with the help of Uncle Benjen.

“What the fuck Robb? I thought you said we weren’t going to be making a scene?” Sansa exclaimed as she pressed the cold compress against the bruise that was forming on his cheekbone.

“I have to agree with your sister lad.” Uncle Benjen shook his head, “For all it was a damn fine punch and it couldn’t have happened to a better person, it was still a foolish thing to do.”

“He was assaulting Theon! I could not just stand around and do nothing!” Robb defended himself, and Sansa realised that Theon had been horribly quiet.

“Theon, are you alright?” She asked gently, reaching out to her brother’s boyfriend.

He flinched slightly, but nodded, his hands rubbing at his mouth as though to remove any trace of Bolton.

“I’ll go and make our apologies so we can leave in a minute,” Sansa said n the same soft voice she used after Bran or Rickon had a nightmare, “Will you be alright in here until then, or would you like me to ask Jon to wait with you in the car?”

“Where is Jon anyway?” Robb mumbled around his swollen cheek, “He should be here giving me those disappointed eyes.”

Benjen shrugged, “Perhaps he is outside, phoning that boyfriend of his?”

Sansa shook her head, “Tormund is at a family event, it is unlikely that Jon is disturbing him.” A horrible thought occurred to her, “Uncle Benjen, were the Targaryens invited by chance?”

There was no chance for him to answer for her question was punctuated by the sound of shattered glass and a shriek of rage that filled the air, and all attention turned towards its cause.

“Well fuck.” Jon said, standing over the wreckage of what had once been a pyramid of champagne glasses.

Sansa resisted the urge to echo his words for it seemed as though both her brothers had decided to make a scene.


	15. In which Jon has to deal with an unpleasant family member

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last of the 'gala' chapters! This time from Jon's point of view - a word of warning in that he meets with the Targaryen's in the chapter and I will delete any comments which insult my characterisation of them (as I know this in particular can be controversial) if you don't like how I wrote them, please hit the back button without telling me :)

It was cowardly perhaps, but Jon had been so very relieved when his siblings volunteered to speak to the Lannisters and Baratheons. He did not have the same way with words that they did, the easy charm which seemed to have come from their Tully blood, and undoubtedly he would have insulted someone with his blunt way of speaking.

There was a reason that he was never going near the PR department of their company after all.

“Be careful Jon,” Uncle Benjen pulled him to one side after Sansa and Robb had swanned off, “I could not get away with not inviting the Targaryens, just as I couldn’t not invite the Boltons.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” Jon smiled back at him, “I’ll do my best to avoid them.”

Benjen patted him on the shoulder “You don’t need to. In fact, I know you’ll be pleased to see one of them.”

His uncle walked off, leaving Jon to wander and ponder about his words.

A smile pulled at the corners of Jon’s mouth as he spotted the only member of his biological father’s family he actually got along with. He snuck up behind her and gently tapped her on one shoulder, the way he had before his mother had died and everything had fallen apart.

“Little brother!” Rhaenys pulled him into a hug, “You are looking well indeed, it seems that life with the Starks has suited you.”

Considering that the last time Rhaenys saw him face to face was a month before his adoption was finalised it was not difficult for him to look better than he had then. His hair had been recently washed for one, and he was not swimming in a jumper that had belonged to his mother.

“Rhaenys,” Jon did not quite hug her back, but nor did he pull away, “You look well, as well. How is Elia doing?”

His words were not a lie, for his older sister did look well, it seemed like just as time away from their father had suited him, so it had suited her. She had let her hair tumble over her shoulders and was in a gown of the Dornish style, as elaborate and beautiful as it was different from Sansa’s. It felt like Jon was doomed to have sisters beautiful enough to draw the eye of every room they entered.

“Mother is happy, she is enjoying the Dornish sun greatly, and the antics of my cousins never cease to amuse her. She thinks their mischievous ways are fair recompense for the way that Uncle Oberyn was as a child.” Her gentle grin turned into a slight frown an she lowered her voice, “I must warn you though, Aunt Dany has accompanied me and-”

“Jon!” The perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder and airy voice told Jon exactly who it was Rhaenys was trying to warn him about.

“Rhaegar.” Jon stepped away from his biological father and spoke with as little emotion as he could.

“Now Jon is that any way to talk to your father?” Rhaegar wagged a finger in Jon’s face, like he was a misbehaving child or puppy, “Come here and give your dad a hug.”

Jon channelled Sansa in his response, pasting a smile on his face and speaking as sweetly as he could, “I would hug my dad. Except he is dead and buried. Perhaps you heard about it?”

He took pleasure from the rising red of rage on Rhaegar’s face. The man had given up any rights to be called his father long before the adoption was finalised, and Jon did not intend to let him forget it.

“Eddard Stark was no more a father to you than Catelyn Tully was your mother.” Rhaegar spat, “Or were you so quick to forget your own blood?”

Rhaenys gasped at their father’s words and tried to step between them, playing the peacemaker as she always had.

“Ned Stark was more a father to me than you ever were.” Jon spat back, “He never became so wrapped up in his own head that he forgot to feed me or pick me up from school. And Catelyn Stark was just as much my mother as Lyanna Stark was, Mum would have been pleased to hear me calling them my parents.”

Rhaegar’s face went a ghastly shade of white, “You really think that?” You really view your aunt and uncle as your parents?”

“Aye.” Jon filled his voice with the same soft anger his dad had often used when referring to Rhaegar, “They loved me and raised me and gave me a home where I could be a child instead of the one doing the caring.”

It seemed that Rhaenys could not stand any more for she flung her arms around Jon and glared at Rhaeger.

“Stop this, the both of you.” She cried, “Father you know why Jon views the Starks as his parents, it is your own damn fault and you know it. And Jon, please can you try not to antagonise him? I know he is more than deserving of your ire, but it would not do to air our dirty laundry for all and sundry.”

Jon could admit the truth of her words, for had Uncle Benjen not just asked that they attempt not to cause any scenes?

“Of course, Rhae.” Jon smiled at his sister, “For you.”

His sister smiled back, an indulgent smile of the same sort she had used back when Lyanna was alive and Rhaenys and Egg would spend alternate weeks with Rhaegar.

“Jon! I didn’t expect to see you here!” His aunt appeared from the direction of the refreshments, a glass of champagne in her hand, “It’s good to see you.”

“Dany, Rhae told me you were here.” Jon forced a smile, “You look well.”

Daenerys could not have looked much more different from Rhaenys if she tried, her white hair was tied up in elaborate braids and her gown was a dramatic design of red and black. There was no denying that she and Rhaegar were siblings, not in the way he, Rhaenys and Aegon had used to be stared at when they were small.

“You look better than ever.” Daenerys said, and Jon had the horrible feeling she was checking him out, “Is there anyone new in your life?”

Jon exchanged a horrified glance with Rhaenys, “I have a boyfriend, we met at my little brother’s playgroup.”

Dany clapped her hands together, “Oh why did you not tell me I had a new nephew to spoil Rhaegar! And if he is already in playgroup that means I missed all his cutest years! Tell me, did you at least name this one with a proper Targaryen name?”

Jon ignored the barb in her words and was about to answer when Rhaenys stepped in with scorn on her features.

“Don’t be deliberately obtuse Dany. You know my father hasn’t had any other children. Jon was obviously talking about one of the Starks, because he isn’t just a Targaryen, he is as much or even more a Stark.” There was vitriol in Rhaenys’ voice which sounded too deep to be purely from those single words.

Dany pouted childishly, an expression that contrasted with the purr of her voice. “Well Jon, when you and your boyfriend split up, you are more than welcome to come to me for some… comfort.”

Jon almost shuddered in disgust, “You’re my aunt. That’s vile. And Tormund and I are very happy, thank you.”

She trailed her fingers down his cheek, “We’re Targaryens Jon. It’s different for us.”

A hint of bile made its way up his throat and from a glance to Rhaenys, he could see she felt the same way. She nodded to him, almost imperceptibly, and Jon took it for permission to leave.

He stalked away, uncaring of how rude it might have appeared, he did not think he could bear to be around them much longer.

Jon was so angered that he did not realise quite where he was going. He merely walked as far from his aunt and biological father as he could, a black cloud hanging low around his head.

He was so focused on his anger and getting away from Rhaegar that he was not looking where he was going and bumped into someone, spilling their glass of wine all over the two of them.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He apologised, looking up and freezing when he realised who it was he had crashed into.

“Apology accepted, Jon Stark.” Randyll Tarly glared down at him. “I suppose I cannot expect someone who has chosen to be friends with my son to have particularly good eyesight.”

Jon swallowed down the biting insult that wanted to emerge at Randyll’s dismissal of Sam, “How is Sam? I was surprised to see that he was not here.”

“Samwell preferred to remain at home.” Randyll sneered, “He would rather spend time with that girl and her brat than honouring his family obligations.”

“Sam is protective of Gilly, that is true.” Jon channelled Sansa with his genial smile, “And she is glad of it after he saved her from that horrible man.”

He would not let Sam and Gilly be disrespected in his hearing, not when they were finally finding some semblance of peace and happiness.

“Quite.” Randyll sniffed, “I think he’s being foolish, but then, when has Samwell ever listened to me?”

“Is that why you tried to force him to join the military?” Jon kept his pleasant tone, “Because you think he’s being foolish in showing compassion?”

“He’s weak and foolish and I long for the old days when I could have sent him to the Nights Watch and been rid of such a blight to the family name.”

Jon took a deep breath to calm himself down, “I’m sorry you feel that way, and that you are unable to see the good man that Sam is. It is your loss, for Sam will grow to be a far better man that you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my sister is speaking with Bolton and I fear she needs me.”

He walked away with his head held high this time, proud of defending his friend. Sam did not tell them outright of the scorn his father held, and the difficulties he had at home, but he did not need to. It was obvious to them all just how scornful Randyll Tarly was to his oldest son.

Jon headed in the direction he had last seen Sansa, her bright hair a beacon calling across the room. But when he reached the place she had been conversing with Roose Bolton, she was gone, with no sign of her anywhere.

It was infuriating, for he had wanted to use her as an excuse not to talk to anyone else for a while, he supposed though, that a large amount of wine would serve as well, if he got drunk enough then he would not be able to recall speaking to anyone, which really was the ideal situation.

He was on his second glass of wine when a hand once again clapped onto his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for earlier Aegon.” Rhaegar slurred in his ear, “It was rude of me, not to defend you against little Dany.”

Jon wrenched himself away, “Your apology would hold more weight, if you could remember my name.”

“Bah, that Northern name. It is a disgrace. No matter how Stark you might look, you are a Targaryen. My blood flows through your veins. I should never have let your mother name you.”

Jon looked away, “Do not speak of my mother. Do not insult my family.”

Rhaegar stepped closer and grabbed Jon’s face with cold, slender fingers, “Your family? You betrayed your family boy, abandoned us for that brood of wildlings you call your siblings. You abandoned your true siblings, your true blood, in favour of a half feral pack.”

“Enough!” Jon pushed Rhaegar away, the words too horrid to listen to.

He watched in horror as Rhaegar stumbled backwards, as he knocked into a table containing a pyramid of champagne flutes.

The pyramid crumbled, falling to the ground with an almighty crash, sending glass shards everywhere.

“Well fuck.” Jon said, as he surveyed the mess of smashed glass.

He looked up and caught sight of his siblings, Sansa with a sort of unholy rage on her face, and Robb with an icepack pressed to his. He supposed that the commotion he had heard earlier had something to do with that.

“Now Jon, that sort of language isn’t very appropriate to use.” Rhaegar tried to lecture him.

Jon snapped. He did not care that all eyes were upon him. He did not care that he was causing a scene.

“You are not my father!” He yelled at Rhaegar, “You have no claim to me anymore. You gave that right up. So fuck off and stop trying to parent me!”

A gentle hand clasped around his elbow and started to manoeuvre him away from the broken glass and the angry form of Rhaegar.

“Come on Jon, lets go home.” Sansa said softly, coaxing him through the crowd of people to where Robb and Benjen waited.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, when they reached them, “Sorry to have caused a scene.”

“You’re in good company.” Robb grinned, “Looks like Sansa is going to be able to yell at us both now.”

“Jon!” Rhaenys shoved her way to them, “Are you all right? I tried to stop father going after you, but he slipped away from me.”

“I-” Jon looked at Sansa helplessly, hoping she would aid him for all words seemed to have fled.

“I’m going to take Robb out to the car and bring it round.” His little sister said decisively, “I expect you to be waiting for me out front.”

It was not the help he had wanted, but it was a boon nonetheless as it gave them a time limit, something that would force Jon to speak. He waited until his siblings were out of earshot before he spoke again.

“Thank you for trying Rhaenys. And I’m ok, I just think the wine went to my head a little.”

“No one can really blame you.” Rhaenys said gently, “I heard some of his mutterings, if he had spoken that way about you or Egg, I think I would have started yelling too.”

Jon smiled weakly at her support, he knew Rhaenys believed she would, but he did not know if he trusted she actually would. Aegon had badmouthed the him and the Starks too many times in his and her presence before for him to truly accept she would defend him.

“Thank you. I’m sorry though, if I have caused you any trouble. I did not mean to.”

“You said what needed to be said. Let me know when you’re free, little brother.” Rhaenys scrubbed a hand over his hair with a grin, “We should meet for a coffee before I return to Dorne.”

Jon did not have to force the smile he returned to her, “I would like that.”

Benjen coughed pointedly from behind him and a sheepish expression crossed his face.

“I should probably go,” Jon said apologetically, “Before I get into even more trouble with my uncle and sister.”

“Of course, Jon. Don’t worry, father is going to in at least as much trouble when we leave. Especially as I shall tell Uncle Jon of what he has done.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Jon protested, aware that for Rhaenys to do such a thing would impact her own relationship with Rhaegar.

“You might be an older brother now,” Rhaenys pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “But you will always be my baby brother. Now go before your little sister starts shouting at you in public.”

Jon smiled at her fondly before leaving to follow Robb and Sansa out to the car, for all he was not looking forward to the inevitable telling off he would receive, it had been nice to see Rhaenys again.

* * *

“What in Westeros were you both thinking!” Sansa shouted. She looked very much like her mother had when she was telling her children off, and Jon could not help but squirm before such a gaze.

He felt like he was all of ten years old again, being told off for letting Robb convince him to jump in the pond looking for newts. A quick glance to his brother told him that Robb was feeling exactly the same way.

“Rhaegar insulted you all.” Jon said quietly, “He called you wildings and half feral.”

Sansa’s face softened, anger turning to sympathy. “Oh Jon, I’m sorry. I understand why you acted like that, truly I do, but did you have to make it quite so public?”

Jon looked to the floor, guilt welling up in his chest, he could already picture the comments in the tabloids about his behaviour, already picture how difficult it would make Uncle Benjen’s life in the future.

“On the up side,” Sansa continued in a lighter tone, “You made Cersei Lannister smile with your upbraiding of Rhaegar, so at least one of tonight’s objectives was reached. Her hatred of Rhaegar is well known, so she’ll likely have some good will for you after you humiliated him like that.”

“At least there’s that.” Jon tried to put some joy in his voice, but it fell flat. “What in the Seven Hells did you do though Robb, to end up with that good a bruise on your face?”

Robb avoided his gaze by looking up at the ceiling, “I punched Ramsay Bolton.”

The words did not make sense. Why would Robb punch a Bolton? More accurately, why would Robb punch a Bolton in public? Catelyn Stark had taught them all to be much more subtle than that.

“Why did you punch Bolton?”

Theon moved then, Jon had all but forgotten that he was in the room until he took hold of Robb’s hand.

“Because Bolton had attacked me.” Theon said in a flat voice, “He pinned me to the wall and threatened to attack Sansa if I called for help.”

“He did what?” Robb growled, “He threatened you both? I should have done more than break his nose.”

Jon agreed with Robb, and so did Sansa if the way she moved to hug Theon was any indication.

“You shouldn’t have let him done that, let him force you into anything just to protect me.” She said in a teary voice, “If he tries to do it again, please ignore all his threats and call for help.”

“I can’t promise you that Sansa.” Theon said, “I can’t promise not to protect you.”

This time it was Jon who moved, he crossed over to the three of them and pulled them all into a hug. It wasn’t the most comfortable hug, what with elbows in the way, but it was comforting.

“We’ll all protect each other.” Jon vowed, “And Bolton won’t be coming near any of you, ever again.”

He did not know how he was going to keep that promise yet, only that he would.


	16. In which Robb receives some well-deserved mockery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to @northernfieldsforever for help with coming up with the date idea for this chapter!

Sometimes Robb really hated his younger siblings. All five of them could be complete shits when they wanted to, and when it came to Robb’s annual tradition, well, then there were no holds barred.

“Ahh the light! It burns!” Arya shrieked with a grin; her gaze solely focused on his legs.

Every fucking year they did the same song and dance. And every fucking year Theon fanned the fires with a sort of manic glee.

“Don’t pout,” Theon said, slinging his arm around Robb’s shoulders, “I happen to think your pasty, hairy legs are rather attractive.”

Robb shrugged his arm off and crossed his arms, “Must you all do this every year?” He asked his assembled siblings and boyfriend, “Must you mock me every time I wear shorts?”

His baby brothers, Arya and Theon nodded decisively, Sansa gained a slightly pitying look.

“Its not that we’re mocking the shorts Robb. Or even you. Its you in the shorts. Its barely ten degrees outside and you are dressed as though it is midsummer in Dorne.” Sansa explained, her eyes laughing for all that her voice was calm.

“Surely you are exaggerating, it must be at least fifteen degrees outside at the moment.”

Arya shoved her phone into his face, with the weather app open informing him that actually no, Sansa was right, it was ten degrees outside and also raining. At some point Robb would probably learn not to try and argue against his sister but it hadn’t happened yet.

“Also Robb, its not just that they are shorts, its that they are _cargo_ shorts.” Sansa said, “The most hideous type of short there is.”

Betrayal came in the form of Theon nodding and agreeing with Sansa. Theon was supposed to be on Robb’s side, it was part and parcel of being his boyfriend.

“She’s right, Robb.” Theon sighed, shaking his head, “You know I would never say no to seeing more of your bare skin, but those shorts are just too much.”

And then the greatest defence that Robb had seen entered the kitchen at that very moment. It was a glorious sight, one he would definitely be taking pictures of to bring up at future moments, one that made him feel like all the mockery was not going to be focused on him from then on.

Jon stumbled into the kitchen, his curls in disarray and his eyes still tired, and wearing what he probably thought was a black shirt.

It was not.

“Is that my dress?” Sansa asked in a horrified voice, “How did you get hold of that?”

Jon blinked at her then looked down at the dress he was wearing, one with lacy sleeves and black embroidery around the neckline. “Wait, what?”

Arya caught Robb’s eye and his little sister grinned at him, completely unrepentant. It was exactly what she had hoped for when they had sorted the washing together a few weeks previously, and now it was paying off for her spectacularly.

“Jon,” Sansa said in the same voice she used when Rickon was being particularly difficult, “The top you are wearing, it is not a top. It is, in fact, my dress. And I am not sure how you did not notice when you were putting it on, seeing as I don’t think you have any clothes with lace.”

Theon started to laugh, hysterical laughter that had him clutching his stomach and leaning on the kitchen table for support.

“Jon, if you wanted to wear a dress we could have gone to the shops and bought you one, you didn’t need to steal Sansa’s.” Robb said, joining in with the teasing, but sincere all the same.

“Oh fuck off.” Jon finally snapped, “Just piss off and leave me in peace.”

“Fuck off!” Rickon happily copied, “Piss off!”

Robb knew that Rickon knew better, they all did. But that did not stop the glare that Sansa levied at both him and Jon.

“If Osha complains again about his language at pre-school, then you two are going to be dealing with it,” She said, “I’m already helping Uncle Benjen clean up your messes from the other night.”

“Sorry.” Jon hung his head and Robb echoed his brother, for all their actions had had good reasoning behind them, they could not deny that it had left a mess for their sister and uncle to clean up.

The moment passed and Jon seemed to wake up a little more. His eyes landed on Robb, on Robb’s legs, and an unholy smirk found its way onto his face.

“What on Planetos are you _wearing_ Robb?”

* * *

“Are you sure you want to go out in public?” Robb cupped Theon’s cheek tenderly, “We can stay in if you prefer?”

Theon smiled weakly at him, “I cannot live in fear of Ramsay bloody Bolton trying to make a move on me my entire life. Besides, if he tries anything then I know you’ll punch him for me.”

“Oh absolutely I would. I would also probably tell Asha, because she definitely would hunt him for sport.”

Theon looked away at the mention of his sister and Robb frowned as a realisation took hold.

“You have told Asha about Bolton, right?”

Theon shook his head, “She would only make a big deal out of it. Besides, my family thinks I’m weak anyway, why would I give them more proof of that?”

Robb was filled with the sudden urge to scream and shout at Theon’s family, at the people who did not realise how good a person Theon was, at how lucky hey were to have him. He thought Asha might have some inkling, but for all Theon was closest with his sister, they still did not have a close bond at all.

“If you’re sure.” Robb said doubtfully, “But I still think you should tell Asha, I think she would enjoy having a good reason to beat someone up for once.”

Theon sighed, “You’re probably right. But still, I’m going to need moral support if I go speak to my sister.”

Robb hid his grin, “I’ll come with you, and then afterwards we can go on a nice date if you want? Some time just you and me without any irritating siblings around.”

His boyfriend smiled weakly, “That sounds nice. But I’m telling you, Robb Stark, I expect to be romanced off my feet.”

That was something Robb could do; he’d read enough of Sansa’s romance novels in his life to be able to do something like that with ease. Even if he didn’t think Theon would appreciate the comparison to the lovelorn damsel.

Robb drove them both to Asha’s flat, not trusting Theon to actually take them there. Her flat was in one of the rougher parts of the town, near to the docks, but the stairwells and hallways of the building were clean and he felt no concern over leaving his car parked outside.

Asha was obviously pleased to see Theon at least, a wide grin split her face as soon as she saw him stood in her doorway.

“Baby brother!” Asha said, opening her arms and pulling Theon into a strong embrace, “What brings you to see me this time? Did Rodrick or Maron try and pick on you again?”

Theon shoved weakly at his sister while still held in her hug, “Get off. And no. Rod and Maron are still terrified of what you and mum will do if they so much as look at me.”

“Good.” She thumped him on the back once before releasing him with a small push. Then she turned her attention to Robb. “And what of you Stark? Are you treating my baby brother well?”

“As well as I can.” Robb said with an easy smile, “If I didn’t then I’m sure my siblings would make me pay.”

“Hmmph. I still think you picked the wrong Stark, little brother. His sister is a far better catch.”

Theon groaned, “Asha, for the last time, Sansa already has a girlfriend. Plus she’s five years younger than you. These statements of yours are just getting creepy.”

Asha grinned at him, “If you say so, baby brother, if you say so. Now, why did you come to see me? I know it was not just to see my lovely face.”

Theon grabbed hold of Robb’s hand and clung to it with all his strength, “It was the Stark gala last week and well, I thought you should know that…”

He trailed off and looked away, and Robb gently squeezed his hand in comfort.

“What happened?” Asha growled, “Spit it out, who do I need to kill? Was it our bastard of an uncle?”

Theon shook slightly and opened his mouth but no words fell out, he turned a pleading gaze upon Robb and Robb knew what he was asking for.

“Ramsay Bolton, son of Roose Bolton, attacked your brother at the gala.” Robb informed her in an almost clinical tone, “He threatened my sister if Theon did not do as he said. I broke his nose.”

For a moment Asha looked like she should have been somewhere other than the living room of her small flat, like she should have been striding across a battlefield with axes in her hands cutting down all who stood in her path. The moment faded though, and while she still looked utterly murderous it was even more terrifying, for it was far more real.

“I’ll kill that little shit.”

It was the reaction that Robb had expected, but it was a relief to hear all the same.

“No Asha.” Theon stepped forwards, his hand still clasped in Robb’s, “He isn’t worth it.”

“Isn’t worth it?” She snarled and began to pace like some caged beast, “He isn’t worth it or you aren’t worth it, little brother? When you were born I promised mother I would protect you, and it is a promise I am proud to keep. I will tear the Bolton shit’s head from his shoulders, I will throw him beneath the ships in the docks so he is drowned, will tie him to the bow of the ship and use him as a figurehead.”

Her threats were impressive, and it was easy to see why her older brothers feared her so much. it would take a brave man to stand up to the force of nature that was Asha Greyjoy.

“Asha, no.” Theon said softly but firmly, “I do not need you to defend my honour, not when Robb has already done so. I told you as a warning, the Boltons now might try to make life more difficult for us all and we know father doesn’t listen to me.”

Asha narrowed her eyes at him but she must have judged he was being sincere for she released a deep breath and nodded. “Fine little brother, I will not string him up by his toenails just yet. But if he tries to hurt you again no force in Westeros will keep him safe from my wrath.

Theon smiled weakly at her, a gesture that Robb happily copied, it was nice to know someone else would help him keep Theon safe.

* * *

There was the scent of salt in the air, the wind carrying spray from the sea and flavouring the air with it. Overhead seagulls flew in lazy circles, looking surprisingly elegant for vicious rats with wings.

The sand was damp beneath the blanket that Robb had laid out, and ever so often a dog walker or runner would give them a strange look, as though it was bizarre to be sat having a picnic on the beach in ten-degree weather.

Sansa and Jon had laughed at him, when Robb had told them of his plans, but it had been kind laughter not mocking, and they had helped him make a basket up with all of Theon’s favourite foods. Rickon had suggested that he buy Theon flowers as well, and while Robb had refused, he could not help but think that perhaps his boyfriend would have liked such a romantic gesture.

He handed Theon another small cake, a pink strawberry one that he would never admit to liking out loud. Theon took it from him with a soft smile and gloved hands.

“I don’t understand how you can be wearing shorts in this weather, its freezing!”

They made quite the sight in truth, Robb in shorts and a light jacket, Theon bundled up in a thick winter coat with scarf and gloves as well. It was likely one of the reasons they were receiving such strange looks in truth.

“It isn’t that cold.” Robb said airily, “there isn’t even any snow on the ground.”

“Not that cold? Not that cold! Its bloody freezing Stark, just because you are too thick headed to realise it or too stubborn to admit you are wrong does not make it a summer’s day!”

Robb moved closer and curled an arm around Theon so that he was pulled against his chest, “If you wanted to cuddle you only had to ask, there was no need to pretend you are cold.”

Theon scoffed and dug an elbow into Robb’s side, but he did cuddle closer. “I don’t need any excuse to cuddle you. You’re like a Labrador, I think you would die without being cuddled.”

That was probably true, of all his siblings Robb was definitely the one who gave out the most hugs, but still being compared to a Labrador was rather insulting.

“Excuse me,” He growled softly, “I think you will find that I am a wolf.”

Theon tipped his head back against Robb’s collarbone and smiled up at him, it was a smile that Robb could not help but returning, as pleased as he was to have it directed his way.

“If you say so.” Theon reached up and ran his fingers lightly over Robb’s jaw, “You can be rather wolfish on occasion, I will admit that. As will the bruises and bite marks that you so delight in leaving around my neck.”

Robb’s smile widened into a grin at the reminder, he delighted in leaving marks on Theon’s neck, a declaration to all that Theon was his. A warning to certain others that Theon was already taken. It was a habit that Jon had remarked on more than once, but then he walked around with beard burn all up his neck so really, he did not have a leg to stand on.

“You like it.” He said calmly, stating a fact he knew for sure.

“I do.” Theon leaned up to press a kiss against Robb’s jaw, “But if Rickon asks me again whether I’ve been fighting an octopus, you get to explain why.”

Robb shoved that thought out of his head and leant down to claim Theon’s lips fully. He wanted at least another hour of normality, of not having to worry about the siblings he had guardianship over. And he could hardly think of a better way to spend it than by making out on the beach with his boyfriend.

Even if he did have to suppress a shiver of cold when the wind picked up.


	17. In which Aegon is the most Targaryen of all Rhaegar's children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, this chapter has a very mild description of child neglect, if you wish to avoid this for any reason stop reading between ' "How could Rhaegar have ever thought that was a good outfit?" Jon whispered in awe.' and the line break.

Jon did not want to go and see his half-siblings, in fact he dreaded it. He loved them both, and liked Rhaenys, but he struggled to spend much time with them, struggled to deal with the reminders they posed. But he had told Rhaenys that he would, and Ned Stark had raised his children to never break their word.

He had gone to Tormund the day before he was supposed to meet them, hoping he had some advice, and if not, that he would be able to offer comfort.

“Sometimes siblings are pricks.” Tormund said, nodding sagely, “Sometimes it’s not worth making the effort to have a relationship with them.”

Jon smiled weakly, “I suppose you speak from experience there?”

“Aye,” Tormund cupped a large hand around the back of his head, “The fucking Thenns. I don’t know why Mance and Dalla put up with them, if it was up to me, I’d cut all contact.”

“What did they even do, to have you and Ygritte hate them all so fiercely?”

Tormund shifted them so that Jon was lain across his chest, his head tucked under Tormund’s chin.

“Well, they didn’t do much of anything really, although Lord Bonehead likes to call everyone his dislikes a ‘cocksucker’. I’ve thumped him more than once for that.”

Jon curled up into Tormund’s hold a little more, “He deserved it then.” His voice quietened as he spoke the words that tormented him, “Does it make me a bad person that I don’t want to see Aegon and Rhaenys? I know they would not knowingly hurt me, but-”

“But they still hurt you.” Tormund finished with a knowing tint to his voice, “Aye, you don’t have to explain, I understand. And I will support you no matter what you choose.”

“When I get back, do you think we could have some time, just us? Robb owes me one so he could babysit Munda and Torva for you.” Jon asked shyly, lifting his head enough to peer up into Tormund’s eyes.

“Aye, little crow, I think we can do that.” Tormund ran a soothing hand down Jon’s spine, one that had him all but melt into his hold.

* * *

The coffee shop that Rhaenys had chosen for them to meet up in was not one that Jon had spent much time in before, it was more a political tea rooms in truth, situated in some grand hotel and attended by men and women in clothes that would not look out of place in noir films.

When he had told Robb and Sansa of his destination they had taken pains to ensure he would not look out of place there, had tied his hair back and put him in a suit that their dada had worn when he had needed to meet people in such a place. Sansa had offered him a tea dress to wear if he wanted as well, for it seemed like none of them were willing to let him live down accidentally wearing one to breakfast.

He was pleased they had chosen his clothing though, aware he would have looked foolish had he dressed himself when stood next to Aegon in his fine suit and violet tie, and Rhaenys in her orange tea dress. They already looked as different from one another as could be, with few believing they were truly siblings upon first meeting them.

The combined power of the Targaryen and Stark names had easily gained them one of the nicest tables, one which overlooked the gardens and had a sort of gauzy curtain around it to block some of the noise from the rest of the room.

A waitress had come to take their orders, and Jon had a moment to be thankful that Catelyn had taken them out for afternoon tea sometimes for it meant he did not feel woefully unprepared for the sheer selection offered.

Egg winked at the waitress when she returned with their drinks, much to Rhaenys and Jon’s disgust. He seemed to have inherited more from Rhaegar than just his looks, he seemed to have inherited his complete inability to stick to a single relationship at any one time.

“So Jon, I hear you made a complete embarrassment of us all the other evening.” Egg said flippantly, a sly smirk gracing his face, “But then, what else could we expect from someone brought up in a household of savages?”

Jon clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palm to stop himself from leaping over the table and breaking Aegon’s nose. he tried to catch Rhaenys’ eye, to see if she would defend him as she had said she would, but she avoided his gaze.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to channel Sansa and her actions when she was dealing with the Lannisters. He smiled a saccharinely sweet smile at Aegon and deliberately made his tone light and sickly.

“I suppose it was too much to ask for you have learnt some manners, growing up as you did with the Targaryens.”

Rage flashed across Aegon’s face, transforming him into looking more like their grandfather than anything else could have, and both Jon and Rhaenys flinched away out of memory of Aerys’ rages.

Aegon’s face smoothed and genuine regret filled his eyes when he aw the flinches, he might not have suffered at the hands of their grandfather as Jon and Rhaenys had, saved by his Targaryen looks, but he had still borne witness to it. He had still heard them both be derided for taking after their mothers in colouring and appearance.

“Jon, Connington that is, was telling us the other day that father used to be in a band when he was younger.” Rhaenys said, in what was obviously a desperate bid to keep the peace, “He told us that there were pictures of it somewhere in the loft so obviously I went looking for them the other day.”

“And?” Egg said, “Did you find them?”

A smirk overtook Rhaenys’ features, making her look decidedly like her Uncle Oberyn, “I did.”

She reached into her handbag and pulled out an old white envelope, their father’s cursive scrawled on one side, and placed it on the centre of the table with a grand flourish.

Rhaenys tipped out the photographs contained within and they all leaned over to look at them properly. They were so bad it was beautiful.

Rhaegar was there of course, but so was Jon Connington, and Oberyn, and for some reason Mace Tyrell. Jon had half expected to see Arthur Dayne there as well, except no, he had always been closer friends with Aunt Elia than with Rhaegar. He was likely the one taking the pictures and laughing as he did so.

All four of the men in the photos were dressed ridiculously, but Rhaegar was perhaps the worst of them all. His silver hair had been streaked with bright violet, and his jacket was black and studded with red stones in the shape of a dragon, as if that was not bad enough, he wore silver leather trousers and carried a harp to complete the ensemble.

It was brilliantly, gloriously, hideous.

“How could Rhaegar have ever thought that was a good outfit?” Jon whispered in awe.

Rhaenys and Aegon both made agreeing noises, and Jon had hoped that they might have found peace, a hope that was shattered when Egg sent a piercing gaze his way.

“Why do you call our father by his given name?”

Jon dropped his own gaze to fiddle with his tea cup, “Because he lost any right to be called my father when my mother died. You won’t remember it because Elia shielded it from you both, but Rhaegar fell apart when my mother died.”

He could remember it with a sort of terrible awareness, a clarity that would shock many considering his age at the time. Could remember the cold house, the way that Rhaegar turned away from him whenever he asked for comfort, the hunger in his belly and knowing that he smelt but being unable to change it.

He could remember the horrified look on Ned and Cat’s faces when they came to visit, how they had whisked him away and cared for him and fought for him. How they had fought for over a year until Rhaegar had consented to sign the adoption papers and pass custody of him over to them.

“What do you mean ‘fell apart’?” Rhaenys prodded carefully.

“I mean that he did not eat or bathe or do anything other than stare at the walls for hours on end. And because he did not eat it meant I didn’t either, because either the food I could eat had not been replaced or it needed cooking which was something I couldn’t do without supervision. My clothes were constantly dirty because Rhaegar never did the washing,” Jon could hear how his voice was flat and devoid of emotion as he recounted the weeks between Lyanna’s death and his parent’s visit. “When mum and dad, that is Cat and Ned, came to visit they were horrified and took me away as fast as they could, they fought for custody of me, and for me to hold their name rather than the one I associated with Rhaegar.”

Rhaenys’ face gained such a look of intense pity that Jon wanted to flee, he did not like pity for it felt cloying and made him feel like he was Bran’s age again. Aegon on the other hand, well, he did not react much at all, his face remained blank and his eyes remained unreadable.

There was a pause and Jon worried that they would say something, worried that they wouldn’t say something, and he could feel his heart rate start to pick up. When his phone went off, with one of the few numbers he actually had a ringtone assigned to, it was a blessing in disguise.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Melisandre, I am calling on behalf of Dr Baratheon, am I speaking to Jon Stark?”

Jon sighed and wondered what exactly Bran had done to have his school calling, “Yes, I am Jon Stark, what has my brother done this time?”

As she began to explain why he needed to come in, Jon sent thanks to the gods for getting him away from Rhaenys and Aegon, he did not think he could deal with it if they had spoken.

* * *

“Explain to me again Bran, why exactly did you think it was a good idea?” Jon pinched his nose and sighed, aware he was emulating Catelyn’s favoured expression of exasperation.

Bran shifted and did not meet his eyes, “Well, Little Walder was being mean to Jojen! He called him a frog eater and an idiot and he hit him! I couldn’t just ignore it, you and Robb and Sansa and Mum and Dad have always said we should look out for our friends.”

That was true, it was one of the life lessons that their parents had always been most firm about, and it was a relief to hear that Bran had remembered it. It still did not excuse his behaviour.

“So you decided, in all your ten year old wisdom, to feed the seagulls every day so that they would flock to you, then throw your whole sandwich at Walder’s head and watch the chaos unfurl?”

Bran nodded happily, very obviously proud of himself and his plan. Jon sighed again.

“You do realise that you could have really hurt him? Birds can be vicious and Walder could have lost an eye.”

That seemed to get through to his little brother, which was good, for he knew that Bran did not want anyone to be truly hurt, only scared a little.

“Oh.” Bran looked to the floor, “I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

Stannis Baratheon huffed, reminding them all of his presence, “Fortunately for you, Mr Stark, no one was hurt this time, however I cannot let your actions go unpunished. A week’s detention for you, I think, as I am sure your siblings will also see fit to punish you.”

Jon nodded, “That sounds very fair, and you are right, although I shall have to discuss any further actions with Robb and Sansa first.”

Stannis smiled, “Of course. As there is only half an hour of the school day left, I would suggest you take you brother home with you now, as returning to his classroom will only cause a disruption.”

Jon smiled back and led his brother back to the car, he waited until they were some distance from the school before pulling into a layby and turning to Bran with a solemn expression.

“Bran, while I don’t approve of the way you went about defending your friend,” He started, watching as Bran’s expression turned guilty once more, “I do have to say that I am proud of you for defending your friends.”

Bran peered up at him with big eyes, “Really?”

Jon chuckled, “Aye, Robb and I did the same you know, except we just punched them. And dad did exactly what I am going to do now.”

He ignored Bran’s questioning look and drove them into town, they had time before Rickon needed collecting from playgroup, and Jon would put it to good use.

Bran kept his look of confusion, right up until Jon wheeled him into the ice cream parlour and ordered them both sundaes. Dad had done exactly the same for he and Robb, providing them with a treat before returning them home to face mum’s wrath.

Robb and Jon and Sansa had all promised that they would raise their siblings as they had been raised, and they would do all that they could to honour that promise.


	18. In which Arya makes her siblings cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Sad chapter, just to prewarn you now 
> 
> (Also, thank you for your patience with the slow update!)

Visiting the graveyard had been a part of their Mother’s Day traditions for as long as Jon had lived with them, an integral part of the day just as valued as bringing their mum breakfast in bed and making her a card.

It was strange to think that only one of those traditions would be surviving this year.

Sansa swallowed harshly and prepared to push down her pain to comfort her younger siblings. She doubted that Rickon would know what was really going on, but Arya and Bran would surely be missing their mother with renewed pain that day.

She and Robb and Jon had already arranged amongst themselves for when they would be able to have time to mourn privately, time away from putting on a brave face for the rest of their siblings.

Sansa took a deep breath and checked herself quickly in the hall mirror, her eyes did not look too red, nor were there any tear tracks on her cheeks. That was good. She wouldn’t be causing any alarm to her siblings then.

She stopped dead upon entering the kitchen. The sight before her was not one she had expected to see at all.

Arya was stood by the stove top, pans before her and the scent of slightly burnt bacon upon the air. Bran was setting the table, placing out cutlery and plates and steaming mugs of tea and coffee in the correct places. He had even chosen their favourite mugs for them to drink from that morning, and Sansa felt her heart clench seeing the mug which had once been part of a pair with her mother’s favourite.

“Sansa!” Bran yelped. “You weren’t supposed to be up yet!”

Sansa blinked at her little brother, “I’m sorry?” Then the implications of what she was seeing suddenly made themselves known to her, “Wait, are you two cooking breakfast?”

Arya looked away, “Wall, its tradition. Isn’t it? To cook breakfast on Mother’s Day? We might- might not have Mum anymore, but you and Robb and Jon are all doing the jobs she used to. And- and we wanted to show that we appreciated it.”

Sansa blinked again. But this time it was not in shock, no, this time it was to try and hold back the tears which wished to fall from her eyes.

“Sansa,” Robb complained from behind her, “Move, you’re blocking the door… Oh.”

He stopped short when he saw why Sansa was stood still, when he saw what Bran and Arya were doing.

“Oh.” Robb’s voice sounded choked, “Oh.”

Arya’s face gained a decidedly embarrassed flush. “Just sit down already.”

They did as they were bid; and when Jon entered the kitchen with Rickon in his arms, so did he after stopping in the doorway and staring at them with decidedly wet eyes.

Arya placed plates before them all, piled high with slightly charred bacon, slightly rubbery eggs, and toast. There was embarrassment on her face, at the sight of the food, but they all dug in happily, for despite its appearance it still smelled good.

For all that the food was not the best Sansa had ever eaten, it still tasted amazing for the effort which her siblings had put in, the love and care that they had put into every morsal.

Once they had finished eating, the plates piled high in the sink waiting for someone to clean them, Bran pulled out an envelope which he handed to Robb. It was an action that Arya mirrored, although she produced three envelopes and handed them, not just to Robb, but to Jon and Sansa as well.

Sansa opened the pale pink envelope, and the tears really did fall as she saw the contents, for within it was a Mother’s Day card, only with every use of ‘mum’ scribbled out, and ‘sister’ scrawled above in Arya’s favourite black sharpie.

“I have one for Mum too.” Arya said softly when Sansa met her gaze.

Sansa rounded the table to wrap her little sister up in a hug, “I think that is a lovely idea. We are going to visit her later; you can give it to her then.”

“We are?” Bran asked quietly, almost fearfully.

“Aye, little raven, we are.” Robb said, with affection lacing every word, “We’re going to visit mum so you can tell her all about everything you’ve done since we last saw her.”

“Mumma?” Rickon suddenly asked tearfully, his head shooting up from the stuffed wolf he was toying with in his highchair, “Where is Mumma?”

Rickon had not asked for her for weeks, and to hear him ask for her now was the final straw. The tears flooded down Sansa’s cheeks, her breath caught in her throat, and she scooped her baby brother up in her arms.

“Mummy’s gone Rickon.” She sobbed, clutching him close, “Mummy’s gone and she’s not coming back.”

Thin arms wrapped around her waist, and she glanced down to see the dark hair of Arya pressed against her side. And then there were three more sets of arms wrapped around her, Bran pressed to her other side, and Robb and Jon encircling them all in a tangle of limbs and tears.

Every single one of Sansa’s siblings was crying, tears streaming down their cheeks and dripping into clothing. The dull pain that their parent’s loss had faded to suddenly felt raw and new again, brought to the forefront of their minds by the lack of their mother on a day dedicated to celebrating her.

Slowly the tears died back, slowly they untangled themselves from each other.

“Now then,” Robb said with forced brightness, as he glanced around the kitchen, “Who’s going to help with the washing up?”

* * *

The graveyard was exactly as Sansa had expected it to be. Exactly as it had been at the funeral, and exactly as it had been at every subsequent visit since then.

The Sept’s towers overlooked it all, casting long shadows on the ground, the rows of stones now so familiar when once they had been foreign.

Their Dad and Aunt Lyanna had been buried elsewhere, in the same yard which had held generations of Starks, one close to a Godswood, but their mum had a different request. She had wanted to be buried in the light of the Seven, in the shade of the Sept which she had attended for years.

They had chosen to take it in turns to visit mum, so that they could each speak to her on whatever they wanted with no worry about the others listening. The other five stayed in the park across the road, allowing Bran and Rickon to play and not have t think about the events of the day if they did not wish to.

Jon had volunteered to take Arya when it was her turn, and Robb had said he would take Bran, so Sansa had said she would take Rickon. They let them speak first, and it was hard not to become choked up when Rickon laid down the card he had made in playgroup.

He’d put it down and patted the stone with his chubby hands, the same way he did to their faces when he wanted something.

“Love you mumma. Come home soon, ok?” He said, in his sweet little voice. “I want you to see how big I’ve got, I’m taller than Lyanna now!”

There was a sort of sadness in the lack of sorrow in how he spoke and moved, and Sansa resisted the urge to gather him up in her arms. Rickon still didn’t really understand what had happened with their parents, he still thought that one day they would be coming home. Sansa fully expected for him to ask for them to come back when asked what he wants for his birthday or Sevenmas.

“Sansa, I’m done now. Can we go to the park?” Rickon said with a little skip, he took hold of Sansa’s hand and swung on it happily.

There was little chance that Rickon would say anything else to their mum, not when he still didn’t really understand that she was gone. He was probably waiting for her to return before he talked to her properly, or at least that was what they hoped, that it was just that instead of him just keeping it all inside. They were looking for someone for Rickon and the others to speak to though, someone who could help them work through the grief and trauma of such a sudden and irreversible change in their lives.

She dropped him off with Robb, who was waiting at the entrance to the park, and returned to their mum’s grave, anxious to have a few minutes to speak to her herself.

“Hi mum.” Sansa said softly, as she placed down the posy of flowers she had brought, “Happy Mother’s Day. Its strange to think that its here already, strange to think that we are here without you. Arya tried to cook breakfast this morning, and I think her attempts would have made you laugh, she definitely got her cooking ability from Dad. She’s good though, they all are, even if she sometimes tries too hard to defend her friends.”

Sansa had to stop for a moment, had to stop and blink back tears as she just imagined their mum’s reaction to the phone call from Cersei Lannister and the way which Aya had decided to get revenge on Joffrey on Myrcella’s behalf. Her mum would likely have laughed, she decided, she would have acted all angry down the phone, but would have laughed as soon as there was no chance of Cersei hearing.

“Robb and Jon keep trying too hard, they’re scared of losing us, I think. They are trying to be perfect and trying to conceal the cracks and I don’t think that they are going to be able to do it for much longer. I’m scared they’re going to shatter.” Sansa finally let out the great heaving sob that she had been holding back, “I’m so scared mummy, I just want you back. I want you to hug me and tell me that everything is going to be ok. I want Robb and Jon to act their age again, rather than as if they’ve suddenly aged a decade. I want you back mummy.”

She pressed her forehead against the gravestone, and traced the letters with a trembling finger.

C. A. T. E. L. Y. N. S. T. A. R. K.

“I miss you and I love you.” She finally breathed, the tracing of the letters having calmed her somewhat, as if she had taken part in a meditation of some kind.

She shook her head and stood, she had spent enough time alone with her mum, and Jon and Robb still hadn’t had their chance to speak with her. Sansa ran her hand across the top of the smooth stone one last time and walked away, back to her brothers and the rest of their siblings.

A waft of their mother’s perfume drifted up from the scarf she was wearing, and just for a moment, it almost felt her mother was wrapping her up in a hug again.

* * *

They lit the fire and curled up on the sofa when they got home, the cards from Arya and Bran displayed upon the mantlepiece next to the photo from the last holiday they took as a whole family.

Jon had gone on to Lyanna’s grave, to visit the first mother he had lost, and Rickon and Bran had retreated to Bran’s room to play while Arya had rushed to her own room with a speed that worried Sansa.

She would check in on her sister later, but for a moment she wanted to decompress in the security of her big brother’s arms.

“Do you think mum would be proud of us?” Sansa whispered, her head against his shoulder, “Or do you think she would be disappointed in how we let Rickon and Arya and Bran run wild? Do you think she would rather we went to Uncle Edmure or Aunt Lysa?”

Robb’s arm curled around her, just a little tighter, “I think mum would be proud of us, she raised us to be kind and strong and to care for each other, and that is what we have done. Uncle Edmure wouldn’t be able to cope with Rickon, not with how attached he is to Shaggy, not when our uncle is so scared of dogs. And mum wouldn’t have wanted us anywhere near Uncle Petyr, not after she threatened to slice his balls off when he made that comment about your shorts.”

Sansa’s lips quirked into a slight smile at the memory, at the terrified look on Petyr’s face and the shrieking of Aunt Lysa.

“I miss them.” She admitted finally, her gaze not moving from the flickering flames in the hearth, “I just want a hug from mum and dad again.”

Robb let out a soft sigh, “So do I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you want to chat with me about my writing, or in general, then find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


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